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VlCOMTE  DE    BRAGELONNE 

BEING  THE  CONTINUATION  OP 

*f?he Three  Guardsmen  *  and  "Twenty  Years  After.* 


KNOWN  AS 

THE  D'ARTAGNAN  ROMANCES, 


By  ALEXANDRE  DUMAS. 


iv.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS, 


0 


V 


Library.  Univ.  of 

VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 


CHAPTER     I. 

THE    LETTER. 


Toward  the  middle  of  the  month  of  May,  in  the  year 
1660,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  sun,  already 
high  in  the  heavens,  was  last  absorbing  the  dew  from  the 
ravenelles  of  the  castle  of  Blois,  a  little  cavalcade,  corn- 
posed  of  three  men  and  two  pages,  re-entered  the  city  by 
the  bridge,  without  producing  any  other  effect  upon  the 
passengers  of  the  quay  beyond  a  first  movement  of  the  hand 
to  the  head,  as  a  salute,  and  a  second  movement  of  the 
tongue  to  express,  in  the  purest  French  then  spoken  in 
France:  "There  is  Monsieur  returning  from  hunting." 
And  that  was  all. 

While,  however,  the  horses  were  climbing  the  steep 
acclivity  v\hich  leads  from  the  river  to  the  castle,  several 
shop-boys  approached  the  last  horse,  from  whose  saddle-bow 
a  number  of  birds  were  suspended  by  the.  beak. 

At  seeing  this,  the  inquisitive  youths  manifested  with 
rustic  freedom  their  contempt  for  such  paltry  sport,  and, 
after  a  dissertation  among  themselves  upon  the  disadvan- 
tages of  hawking,  they  returned  to  their  occupations.     One 

|  only  of  the  curious  party,  a  stout,  chubby,  cheerful  lad, 
having  demanded  how  it  was  that  Monsieur,  who,  from  his 
great  revenues,  had   it  in   his   power  to  amuse  himself  so 

_  much  better,  could  be  satisfied  with  such  mean  diversions. 
"Do   you    not    know,**  one   of   the    standers-by   replied, 
"that  Monsieur's  principal  amusement  is  to  weary  himself?"' 
The  light-hearted  boy  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  ges- 
ture which  said  as  clear  as  day:  "In  that  case  I  would  rather 

.  be  plain  Jack  than  a  prince."  And  all  resumed  then- 
labors. 

In  the  meantime,  Mousieur  continued  his  route  with  an 


2  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

air  at  once  so  melancholy  and  so  majestic,  that  he  certainly 
would  have  attracted  the  attention  of  spectators,  if  specta- 
tors there  had  been;  but  the  good  citizens  of  Blois  could 
not  pardon  Monsieur  for  having  chosen  their  gay  city  for 
an  abode  in  which  to  indulge  melancholy  at  his  ease,  and 
as  often  as  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  illustrious  ennuye, 
they  stole  away  gaping,  or  drew  back  their  heads  into  the 
interior  of  their  dwellings,  to  escape  the  soporific  influence 
of  that  long,  pale  face,  of  those  watery  eyes,  and  that 
languid  address;  so  that  the  worthy  prince  was  almost  cer- 
tain to  find  the  streets  deserted  whenever  he  chanced  to 
pass  through  them. 

'"jSow,  on  the  part  of  the  citizens  of  Blois  this  was  a 
culpable  piece  of  disrespect,  for  Monsieur  was,  after  the 
king — nay.  even,  perhaps,  before  the  king — the  greatest 
noble  of  the  kingdom.  In  fact,  God,  who  had  granted  to 
Louis  XIV.,  then  reigning,  the  honor  of  being  son  of  Louis 
XIII.,  had  granted  to  Monsieur  the  honor  of  being  son  of 
Henry  IV.  It  was  not  then,  or,  at  least,  it  ought  not  to 
have  been,  a  trifling  source  of  pride  for  the  city  of  Blois, 
that  Gaston  of  Orleans  had  chosen  it  as  his  residence,  and 
held  his  court  in  the  ancient  castle  of  its  states. 

But  it  was  the  destiny  of  this  great  prince  to  excite  the 
attention  and  admiration  of  the  public  in  a  very  modified 
degree  wherever  he  might  be.  Monsieur  had  fallen  into 
this  situation  by  habit. 

It  was  not,  perhaps,  this  which  gave  him  that  air  of  list- 
lessness.  Monsieur  had  been  tolerably  busy  in  the  course 
of  his  life.  A  man  cannot  allow  the  heads  of  a  dozen  of 
his  best  friends  to  be  cut  off  without  feeling  a  little  excite- 
ment; and  as  since  the  accession  of  Mazarin  to  power  no 
heads  had  been  cut  off,  Monsieur's  occupation  was  gone, 
and  his  morale  suffered  from  it. 

The  life  of  the  poor  prince  was  then  very  dull.  After 
his  little  morning  hawking-party  on  the  banks  of  the 
Beuvion,  or  in  the  woods  of  Chiverny,  Monsieur  crossed 
the  Loire,  went  to  breakfast  at  Chambord,  with  or  without 
an  appetite,  and  the  city  of  Blois  heard  no  more  of  its 
sovereign  lord  and  master  till  the  next  hawking-day. 

So  much  for  the  ennui  extra  muros;  of  the  ennui  of  the 
interior  we  will  give  the  reader  an  idea  if  he  will  with  ue 
follow  the  cavalcade  to  the  majestic  porch  of  the  Castle  of 
the  States. 

Monsieur  rode  a  little  steady-paced  horse,  equipped  with 
a  large  saddle  of  red  Flemish   velvet,  with  stirrups  in  the 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRaGELONNE.  3 

shape  of  buskins;  the  horse  was  of  a  bay  color;  Monsieur's 
pourpoint  of  crimson  velvet  corresponded  with  the  cloak  of 
the  same  shade  and  the  horse's  equipment,  and  it  was  only 
by  this  red  appearance  of  the  whole  that  the  prince  could 
be  known  from  his  two  companions,  the  one  dressed  in 
violet  the  other  in  green.  He  on  the  left,  in  violet,  was  his 
equerry;  he  on  the  right,  in  green,  was  the  grand  veneur. 

One  of  the  pages  carried  two  gerfalcons  upon  a  perch, 
the  other  a  hunting-horn,  which  he  blew  with  a  careless 
note  at  twenty  paces  from  the  castle.  Every  one  about 
this  listless  prince  did  what  he  had  to  do  listlessly. 

At  this  signal  eight  guards,  who  were  lounging  in  the 
sun  in  the  square  court,  ran  to  their  halberts,  and  Monsieur 
made  his  solemn  entry  into  the  castle. 

When  he  had  disappeared  under  the  shades  of  the  porch, 
three  or  four  idlers,  who  had  followed  the  cavalcade  to  the 
castle,  after  pointing  out  the  suspended  birds  to  one  an- 
other, dispersed  with  comments  upon  what  they  saw;  and 
when  they  were  gone,  the  street,  the  place,  and  the  court, 
all  remained  deserted  alike. 

Monsieur  dismounted  without  speaking  a  word,  went 
straight  to  his  apartments,  where  his  valet  changed  his 
dress,  and  as  madame  had  not  yet  sent  orders  respecting 
breakfast,  Monsieur  stretched  himself  upon  a  chaise-longue, 
and  was  soon  as  fast  asleep  as  if  it  had  been  eleven  o'clock 
at  night. 

The  eight  guards,  who  concluded  their  service  for  the 
day  was  over,  laid  themselves  down  very  comfortably  in  the 
sun  upon  some  stone  benches;  the  grooms  disappeared  with 
their  horses  into  the  stables,  and,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  joyous  birds,  startling  one  another  with  their  sharp 
chirping  in  the  tufts  of  gillyflowers,  it  might  have  been 
thought  that  the  whole  castle  was  as  soundly  asleep  as 
Monsieur  was. 

All  at  once,  in  the  midst  of  this  delicious  silence,  there 
resounded  a  clear,  ringing  laugh,  which  caused  several  of 
the  halberdiers  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  siesta  to  open  at 
least  one  eye. 

This  burst  of  laughter  proceeded  from  a  window  of  the 
castle,  visited  at  this  moment  by  the  sun,  which  united  it 
in  one  of  those  large  angles  which  the  profiles  of  the  chim- 
neys marked  out  upon  the  walls  before  midday. 

The  little  balcony  of  wrought  iron  which  advanced  in 
front  of  this  window  was  furnished  with  a  pot  of  red  gilly- 
flowers, another  pot  of  primroses,  and  an  early  rose-tree, 


4  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

the  foliage  of  which,  beautifully  green,  was  variegated  with 
numerous  red  specks  announcing  future  roses. 

In  the  chamber,  lighted  by  this  window,  was  a  square 
table,  covered  with  an  old,  large-flowered  Harlem  tapestry; 
in  the  center  of  this  table  was  a  long-necked  stone  bottle, 
in  which  were  irises  and  lilies  of  the  valley;  at  each  end  of 
this  table  was  a  young  girl. 

The  position  of  these  two  young  people  Avas  singular; 
they  might  have  been  taken  for  two  boarders  escaped  from 
a  convent.  One  of  them,  with  both  elbows  on  the  tables 
and  a  pen  in  her  hand,  was  tracing  characters  upon  a  sheet 
of  fine  Dutch  paper;  the  other,  kneeling  upon  a  chair, 
which  allowed  her  to  advance  her  head  and  bust  over  the 
back  of  it  to  the  middle  of  the  table,  was  watching  her  com- 
panion as  she  wrote,  or  rather  hesitated  to  write. 

Thence  the  thousand  cries,  the  thousand  railleries,  the 
thousand  laughs,  one  of  which,  more  brilliant  than  the 
rest,  had  startled  the  birds  of  the  ravenelles,  and  disturbed 
the  slumbers  of  Monsieur's  guards.  • 

We  are  taking  portraits  now;  we  shall  be  allowed,  there- 
fore, we  hope,  to  sketch  the  two  last  of  this  chapter. 

The  one  who  was  leaning  in  the  chair — that  is  to  say,  the 
joyous,  the  laughing  one — was  a  beautiful  girl  of  from 
eighteen  to  twenty,  with  brown  complexion  and  brown  hair, 
splendid,  from  eyes  which  sparkled  beneath  strongly  marked 
brows,  and  particularly  from  her  teeth,  which  seemed  to 
shine  like  pearls  between  her  red  coral  lips.  Her  every 
movement  seemed  the  result  of  a  springing  mine;  she  did 
not  live — she  bounded. 

The  other,  she  who  was  writing,  looked  at  her  turbulent 
companion  with  an  eye  as  limpid,  as  pure,  and  as  blue  as 
the  heaven  of  that  day.  Her  hair,  of  a  shaded  fairness, 
arranged  with  exquisite  taste,  fell  in  silky  curls  over  her 
lovely  mantling  cheeks;  she  passed  across  the  paper  a  deli- 
cate hand,  whose  thinness  announced  her  extreme  youth. 
At  each  burst  of  laughter  that  proceeded  from  her  friend, 
she  raised,  as  if  annoyed,  her  white  shoulders  in  a  poetical 
and  mild  manner,  but  they  were  wanting  in  that  rich  full- 
ness of  mold  which  was  likewise  to  be  wished  in  her  arm.-; 
and  hands. 

"Montalais!  Montalais!"  said  she  at  length,  in  a  voice 
soft  and  caressing  as  a  melody,  "you  laugh  too  loud — you 
laugh  like  a  man.  You  will  not  only  draw  the  attention  of 
messieurs  the  guards,  but  you  will  not  hear  madame's  bell 
when  niadame  rings." 


THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  5 

This  admonition  neither  made  the  young  girl  called  Mon- 
talais  cease  to  laugh  nor  gesticulate.  She  only  replied: 
"Louise,  you  do  not  speak  as  you  think,  my  dear;  you 
know  that  messieurs  the  guards,  as  you  call  them,  have  only 
just  commenced  their  sleep,  and  that  a  cannon  would  not 
waken  them;  you  know  that  madame's  hell  can  be  heard  at 
the  bridge  of  Blois,  and  that  consequently  I  shall  hear  it 
when  my  services  are  required  by  madame.  What  annoys 
you,  my  child,  is  that  I  laugh  while  you  are  writing;  and 
what  you  are  alraid  of  is  that  Madame  de  St.  Remy,  your 
:  mother,  should  come  up  here,  as  she  does  sometimes  when 
we  laugh  too  loud,  that  she  should  surprise  us,  and  that  she 
should  see  that  enormous  sheet  of  paper  upon  which,  rn  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  you  have  only  traced  the  words  Moti- 
sieur  Raoul.  Now,  you  are  right,  my  dear  Louise,  because 
after  these  words,  'Monsieur  Raoul,'  others  may  be  put  so 
significant  and  so  incendiary  as  to  cause  Madame  de  St. 
Remy  to  burst  out  into  fire  and  flames!  Hein!  is  not  that 
true  now? — say." 

And  Montalais  redoubled  her  laughter  and  noisy  provo- 
cations. 

The  fair  girl  at  length  became  quite  angry;  she  tore  the 
sheet  of  paper  on  which,  in  fact,  the  words  "Monsieur 
Raoul"  were  written  in  good  characters;  and,  crushing  the 
paper  in  her  trembling  hands,  she  threw  it  out  of  the 
window. 

"There!  there!"  said  Mile,  de  Montalais;  "there  is  our 
little  lamb,  our  gentle  dove  angry!  Don't  be  afraid,  Louise 
— Madame  de  St.  Remy  will  not  come;  and  if  she  should, 
you  know  I  have  a  quick  ear.  Besides,  what  can  be  more 
permissible  than  to  write  to  an  old  friend  of  twelve  years' 
standing,  particularly  when  the  letter  begins  with  the  words 
'Monsieur  Raoul?'  " 

"It  is  all  very  well — I  will  not  write  to  him  at  all,"  said 
the  young  girl. 

"Ah,  ah!  in  good  sooth,  Montalais  is  properly  punished," 
cried  the  jeering  brunette,  still  laughing.  "Come,  cornel 
let  us  try  another  sheet  of  paper,  and  finish  our  dispatch 
off-hand.  Good!  there  is  the  bell  ringing  now.  By  my 
faith,  so  much  the  worse!  Madame  must  wait,  or  else  do 
without  her  first  maid  of  honor  this  morning." 

A  bell,  in  fact,  did  ring;  it  announced  that  madame  had 
finished  her  toilet,  and  waited  for  Monsieur  to  give  her  his 
hand,  and  conduct  her  from  the  salon  to  the  refectory. 

This  formality  being  accomplished  with  great  ceremony, 


6  THE  YICOMTE   BE  BRAGELOSTNE. 

the  husband  and  wife  breakfasted,  and  then  separated  till 
the  hour  of  dinner,  invariably  fixed  at  two  o'clock. 

The  sound  of  this  bell  caused  a  door  to  be  opened  in  the 
offices  on  the  left  hand  of  the  court,  from  which  filed  two 
maitres  d' hotel,  followed  by  eight  scullions  bearing  a  kind 
of  hand-barrow  loaded  with  dishes  under  silver  covers. 

One  of  the  maitres  d' hotel,  the  first  in  rank,  touched  one 
of  the  guards,  who  was  snoring  on  his  bench,  slightly  with 
his  wand;  he  even  carried  his  kindness  so  far  as  to  place 
the  halbert  which  stood  against  the  wall  in  the  hands  of  the 
man,  stupid  with  sleep,  after  which  the  soldier,  without 
explanation,  escorted  the  viande  of  Monsieur  to  the  refec- 
tory, preceded  by  a  page  and  the  two  maitres  d' hotel. 

Wherever  the  viande  passed,  the  soldiers  ported  arms. 

Mile,  de  Montalais  and  her  companion  had  watched  from 
their  window  the  details  of  this  ceremony,  to  which,  by  the 
bye,  they  must  have  been  pretty  well  accustomed.  But 
they  did  not  look  so  much  from  curiosity  as  to  be  assured 
they  should  not  be  disturbed.  So  guards,  scullions,  maitres 
d' hotel,  and  pages  having  passed,  they  resumed  their  places 
at  the  table;  and  the  sun,  which,  through  the  window- 
frame,  had  for  an  instant  fallen  upon  those  two  charming 
countenances,  now  only  shed  its  light  upon  the  gillyflowers, 
primroses,  and  rose-tree. 

"Bah!"  said  Mile,  de  Montalais,  taking  her  place  again; 
"madame  will  breakfast  very  well  without  me!" 

"Oh,  Montalais,  you  will  be  punished!"  replied  the  other 
girl,  sitting  down  quietly  in  hers. 

"Punished,  indeed! — that  is  to  say,  deprived  of  a  ride! 
That  is  just  the  way  in  which  I  wish  to  be  punished.  To 
go  out  in  the  grand  coach,  perched  upon  a  doorstep;  to 
turn  to  the  left,  twist  round  to  the  right,  over  roads  full 
of  ruts,  where  we  cannot  exceed  a  league  in  two  hours;  and 
then  to  come  back  straight  toward  the  wing  of  the  castle  in 
which  is  the  window  of  Mary  de  Medici,  so  that  madame 
never  fails  to  say:  'Could  one  believe  it  possible  that  Mary 
de  Medici  should  have  escaped  from  that  window — forty- 
seven  feet  high?  The  mother  of  two  princes  and  three 
princesses!'  If  you  call  that  relaxation,  Louise,  all  I  ask 
is  to  be  punished  every  day;  particularly  when  my  punish- 
ment is  to  remain  with  you  and  write  such  intere&ting  let- 
ters as  we  write!" 

"Montalais!  Montalais!  there  are  duties  to  be  performed." 

"You  talk  of  them  very  much  at  your  ease,  my  little 
heart! — you,    who   are   left   Quite   free   amid   this   tedious 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  7 

court,  You  are  the  only  person  that  reaps  the  advantages 
of  them  without  incurring  the  trouble — you,  who  are  really 
more  one  of  madame's  maids  of  honor  than  I  am,  because 
madame  makes  her  affection  for  your  father-in-law  glance 
off  upon  you;  so  that  you  enter  this  dull  house  as  the  birds 
fly  into  yonder  court,  inhaling  the  air,  pecking  the  flowers, 
picking  up  the  grain,  without  having  the  least  service  to 
perform,  or  the  least  annoyance  to  undergo.  And  you  talk 
to  me  of  duties  to  be  performed!  In  sooth,  my  pretty  idler, 
what  are  your  own  proper  duties,  unless  to  write  to  hand- 
some Raoul?  And  even  that  you  don't  do;  so  that  it  looks 
to  me  as  if  you  likewise  were  rather  negligent  of  your 
duties." 

Louise  assumed  a  serious  air,  leaned  her  chin  upon  her 
hand,  and,  in  a  tone  full  of  candid  remonstrance,  "And  do 
you  reproach  me  with  my  good  fortune?"  said  she.  "Can 
you  have  the  heart  to  do  it?  Ypu  have  a  future;  you  be- 
long to  the  court;  the  king,  if  he  should  marry,  will  require 
Monsieur  to  be  near  his  person;  you  will  see  splendid  fetes; 
you  will  see  the  king,  who  they  say  is  so  handsome,  so 
agreeable!" 

"Ay,  and  still  more,  I  shall  see  Raoul,  who  attends  upon 
Monsieur  le  Prince,"  added  Montalais  maliciously. 

"Poor  Raoul!"  sighed  Louise. 

"Now  is  the  time  to  write  to  him,  my  pretty  dear! 
Come,  begin  again,  with  that  famous  'Monsieur  Raoul' 
which  figures  at  the  top  of  the  poor  torn  sheet." 

She  then  held  the  pen  toward  her,  and  with  a  charming 
smile  encouraged  her  hand,  which  quickly  traced  the  words 
she  named. 

"What  next?"  asked  the  younger  of  the  two  girls. 

"Why,  now  write  what  you  think,  Louise,"  replied 
Montalais. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  I  think  of  anything?" 

"You  think  of  somebody,  and  that  amounts  to  the  same 
thing,  or  rather  even  worse." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Montalais?" 

"Louise!  Louise!  your  blue  eyes  are  as  deep  as  the  sea  I 
saw  at  Boulogne  last  year!  No,  no,  I  mistake — the  sea  is 
perfidious;  your  eyes  are  as  deep  as  the  azure  yonder — lock 
— over,  our  heads!" 

"Well,  since  you  can  read  so  well  in  my  eyes,  tell  me 
what  I  am  thinking  about,  Montalais." 

"In  the  first  place,  you  don't  think,  Monsieur  Raoul;  you 
think,  My  dear  Raoul." 


8  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONXE. 

"Oh " 

"Never  blush  for  such  a  trifle  as  that!  'My  dear  Raoul,' 
we  will  say,  'You  implore  me  to  write  to  you  at  Paris,  where 
you  are  detained  by  your  attendance  on  Monsieur  le  Prince. 
As  you  must  be  very  dull  there,  to  seek  for  amusement  in 
the  remembrance  of  a  provinciate '  " 

Louise  rose  up  suddenly.  "No,  Montalais,"  said  she, 
with  a  smile;  "I  don't  think  a  word  of  that.  Look,  this  is 
what  I  think;"  and  she  seized  the  pen  boldly,  and  traced, 
with  a  firm  hand,  the  following  words: 

"I  should  have  been  very  unhappy  if  your  entreaties  to 
obtain  a  remembrance  of  me  had  been  less  warm.  Every- 
thing here  reminds  me  of  our  early  days,  which  so  quickly 
passed  away,  which  so  delightfully  flew  by,  that  no  others 
will  ever  replace  the  charm  of  them  in  my  heart." 

Montalais,  who  watched  the  flying  pen,  and  read,  the 
wrong  way  upward,  as  fast  as  her  friend  wrote,  here  inter- 
rupted by  clapping  her  hands.  "Capital!"  cried  she; 
"there  is  frankness — there  is  heart — there  is  style!  Show 
these  Parisians,  my  dear,  that  Blois  is  the  city  for  fine 
language!" 

"He  knows  very  well  that  Blois  was  a  paradise  to  me," 
replied  the  girl. 

"That  is  exactly  what  you  mean  to  say;  and  you  speak 
like  an  angel." 

"I  will  finish,  Montalais;"  and  she  continued  as  follows: 
"You  often  think  of  me,  you  say,  Monsieur  Raoul;  I 
thank  you;  but  that  does  not  surprise  me,  when  I  recollect 
how  often  our  hearts  have  beaten  close  to  each  other." 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  Montalais.  "Beware,  my  lamb!  You 
are  scattering  your  wool,  and  there  are  wolves  about." 

Louise  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  gallop  of  a  horse 
resounded  under  the  porch  of  the  castle. 

"What  is  that?"  said  Montalais,  approaching  the  window 
"A  handsome  cavalier,  by  my  faith!" 

"Oh!  Raoul!"  exclaimed  Louise,  who  had  made  the  same 
movement  as  her  friend,  and,  becoming  pale  as  death,  sunk 
back  beside  her  unfinished  letter. 

"Now,  he  is  a  clever  lover,  upon  my  word!"  cried  Mon- 
talais; "he  arrives  just  at  the  proper  moment." 

"Come  in,  come  in,  I  implore  you!"  murmured  Louise. 

"Bah!  he  does  not  know  me.  Let  me  see  what  he  haa 
come  here  for," 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  9 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE     MESSENGER. 

Mlle.  de  Montalais  was  right;  the  young  cavalier  was 
goodly  to  look  upon. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  from  twenty-four  to  twenty-five 
years  of  age,  tall  and  slender,  wearing  gracefully  the  pic- 
turesque military  costume  of  the  period.  His  large  boots 
contained  a  foot  which  Mile,  de  Montalais  might  not  have 
disowned  if  she  had  been  transformed  into  a  man.  With 
one  of  his  delicate  but  nervous  hands  he  checked  his  horse 
in  the  middle  of  the  court,  and  with  the  other  raised  his 
hat,  whose  long  plumes  shaded  his  at  once  serious  and  in- 
genuous countenance. 

The  guards,  roused  by  the  steps  of  the  horse,  awoke,  and 
were  on  foot  in  a  minute.  The  young  man  waited  till  one 
of  them  was  close  to  bis  saddle-bow;  then,  stooping  toward 
him,  in  a  clear,  distinct  voice,  which  was  perfectly  audible 
at  the  window  where  the  two  girls  were  concealed,  "A 
message  for  his  royal  highness,"  he  said. 

"Ah,  ah!"  cried  the  soldier.     "Officer,  a  messenger!" 

But  this  brave  guard  knew  very  well  that  no  officer  would 
appear,  seeing  that  the  only  one  who  could  have  appeared 
dwelt  at  the  other  side  of  the  castle,  in  an  apartment  look- 
ing into  the  gardens.  So  he  hastened  to  add:  "The  officer, 
monsieur,  is  on  his  rounds;  but,  in  his  absence.  Monsieur 
de  St.  Remy,  the  maitre  d' hotel,  shall  be  informed." 

"Monsieur  de  St.  Remy?"  repeated  the  cavalier,  slightly 
blushing. 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"Why,  yes;  but  request  him,  if  you  please,  that  my  visit 
be  announced  to  his  royal  highness  as  soon  as  possible." 

"It  appears  to  be  pressing,"  said  the  guard,  as  if  speaking 
to  himself,  but  really  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  an  answer. 

The  messenger  made  an  affirmative  sign  with  his  head. 

"In  that  case,"  said  the  guard,  "I  will  go  and  seek  the 
maitre  cV hotel  myself." 

The  young  man,  in  the  meantime,  dismounted;  and  while 
the  others  were  making  their  remarks  upon  the  fine  horse 
the  cavalier  rode,  the  soldier  returned. 

"Your  pardon,  young  gentleman;  but  your  name,  if  you 
please5" 

"The  Vicomte  de  Bragelonne,  on  the  part  of  his  highness 
Monsieur  le  Prince  de  Conde." 


10  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

The  soldier  made  a  profound  bow,  and,  as  if  the  name  of 
the  conqueror  of  Rocroy  and  Sens  had  given  him  wings,  he 
stepped  lightly  up  the  steps  leading  to  the  antechamber. 

M.  de  Bragelonne  had  not  had  time  to  fasten  his  horse  to 
the  iron  bars  of  the  perron,  when  M.  de  St.  Remy  came 
running,  out  of  breath,  supporting  his  capacious  stomach 
with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  cut  the  air  as  a 
fisherman  cleaves  the  waves  with  his  oar. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte!  You  at  Blois!"  cried  he. 
"Well,  that  is  a  wonder.  Good-day  to  you — good-day, 
Monsieur  Raoul." 

"I  offer  you  a  thousand  respects,  Monsieur  de  St.  Remy." 

"How  Madame  de  la  Vail — I  mean,  how  delighted  Ma- 
dame de  St.  Remy  will  be  to  see  you!  But  come  in.  His 
royal  highness  is  at  breakfast — must  he  be  interrupted?  Is 
the  matter  serious?" 

"Yes,  and  no,  Monsieur  de  St.  Remy.  A  moment's 
delay,  however,  would  be  disagreeable  to  his  royal  high- 
ness." 

"If  that  is  the  case,  we  will  force  the  consigne,  Monsieur 
le  Vicomte.  Come  in.  Besides.  Monsieur  is  in  au  excel- 
lent humor  to-day.  And  then  you  bring  news,  do  you 
not?" 

"Great  news,  Monsieur  de  St.  Remy." 

"And  good,  I  presume?" 

"Excellent." 

"Come  quickly,  come  quickly,  then!"  cried  the  worthy 
man,  putting  his  dress  to  rights  as  he  went  along. 

Raoul  followed  him,  hat  in  hand,  and  a  little  disconcerted 
at  the  noise  made  by  his  spurs  in  these  immense  salons. 

As  soon  as  he  had  disappeared  in  the  interior  of  the 
palace,  the  window  of  the  court  was  repeopled,  and  an 
animated  whispering  betrayed  the  emotion  of  the  two  girls. 
They  soon  appeared  to  have  formed  a  resolution,  for  one  of 
the  two  faces  disappeared  from  the  window.  This  was  the 
brunette;  the  other  remained  behind  the  balcony,  concealed 
by  the  flowers,  watching  attentively  through  the  branches 
the  perron  by  which  M.  de  Bragelonne  had  entered  the 
castle. 

In  the  meantime,  the  object  of  so  much  laudable  curiosity 
continued  his  route,  following  the  steps  of  the  maitre 
d'hotel.  The  noise  of  quick  steps,  an  odor  of  wine  and 
viands,  a  clinking  of  crystal  and  plates,  warned  them  that 
they  were  coming  to  the  end  of  their  course. 

The  pages,  valets,  and   officers,   assembled   in  the  office 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  11 

which  preceded  the  refectory,  welcomed  the  newcomer  with 
the  proverbial  politeness  of  the  country;  some  of  them  were 
acquainted  with  Kaoul,  and  all  knew  that  he  came  from 
Paris.  It  might  be  said  that  his  arrival  for  a  moment  sus- 
pended the  service.  In  fact,  a  page,  who  was  pouring  out 
wine  for  his  royal  highness,  on  hearing  the  jingling  of  spurs 
in  the  next  chamber,  turned  round  like  a  child,  without 
perceiving  that  he  was  continuing  to  pour  out,  not  into  the 
glass,  but  upon  the  tablecloth. 

Madame,  who  was  not  so  preoccupied  as  her  glorious 
spouse  was,  remarked  this  distraction  of  the  page. 

"■Well?"  exclaimed  she. 

"Well!"  repeated  Monsieur;  "what  is  going  on  then?" 

M.  de  St.  Eemy,  who  had  just  introduced  his  head 
through  the  doorway,  took  advantage  of  the  moment. 

"Why  am  I  to  be  disturbed?"  said  Gaston,  helping  him- 
self to  a  thick  slice  of  one  of  the  largest  salmon  that  had 
ever  ascended  the  Loire  to  be  captured  between  Painbceuf 
and  St.  Nazaire. 

"There  is  a  messenger  from  Paris.  Oh!  but  after  mon- 
seigneur  has  breakfasted  will  do;  there  is  plenty  of  time." 

"From  Paris!"  cried  the  prince,  letting  his  fork  fall. 
"A  messenger  from  Paris,  do  you  say?  And  on  whose  part 
does  this  messenger  come?" 

"On  the  part  of  Monsieur  le  Prince,"  said  the  maitre 
(V  hot  el  promptly. 

Every  one  knows  that  the  Prince  de  Conde  was  so  called. 

"A  messenger  from  Monsieur  le  Prince!"  said  Gaston, 
with  an  inquietude  that  escaped  none  of  the  assistants,  and 
consequently  redoubled  the  general  curiosity. 

Monsieur,  perhaps,  fancied  himself  brought  back  again 
to  the  happy  times  when  the  opening  of  a  door  gave  him  an 
emotion,  in  which  every  letter  might  contain  a  state  secret 
— in  which  every  message  was  connected  with  a  dark  and 
complicated  intrigue.  Perhaps,  likewise,  the  great  name 
of  M.  le  Prince  expanded  itself,  beneath  the  roofs  of  Blois, 
into  proportions  of  a  phantom. 

Monsieur  pushed  away  his  plate. 

"Shall  I  tell  the  envoy  to  wait?"  said  M.  de  St.  Kemy. 

A  glance  from  madame  emboldened  Gaston,  who  replied: 
"No,  no;  let  him  come  in  at  once,  on  the  contrary. 
Apropos,  who  is  he?" 

"A  gentleman  of  this  country,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  de 
Bragelonne." 

"Ah,  very  well!  Introduce  him,  St.  Kemy— introduce 
him.*' 


13  THE    VICOMTE   DE    BRAGELOIOTE. 

And  when  he  had  let  fall  these  words,  with  his  accustomed 
gravity,  Monsieur  turned  his  eyes,  in  a  certain  manner, 
upon  the  people  of  his  suite,  so  that  all,  pages,  officers,  and 
equerries,  quitted  the  service,  knives  and  goblets,  and 
made  toward  the  second  chamber  a  retreat  as  rapid  as  it 
was  disorderly. 

This  little  army  had  dispersed  in  two  files  when  Raoul 
de  Bragelonne,  preceded  by  M.  de  St.  Eemy,  entered  the 
refectory. 

The  short  moment  of  solitude  in  which  this  retreat  had 
left  him  permitted  Monsieur  the  time  to  assume  a  diplo- 
matic countenance.  He  did  not  turn  round,  but  waited  till 
the  maitre  d'hotel  should  bring  the  messenger  face  to  face 
with  him. 

Kaoul  stopped  even  with  the  lower  end  of  the  table,  so 
as  to  be  exactly  between  Monsieur  and  madame.  From 
this  place  he  made  a  profound  bow  to  Monsieur,  and  a  very 
humble  one  to  madame;  then,  drawing  himself  up  into 
military  pose,  he  waited  for  Monsieur  to  address  him. 

On  his  part  the  prince  waited  till  the  doors  were  hermetic- 
ally closed;  he  would  not  turn  round  to  ascertain  the  fact, 
as  that  would  have  been  derogatory  to  his  dignity,  but  he 
listened  with  all  his  ears  for  the  noise  of  the  lock,  which 
would  promise  him  at  least  an  appearance  of  secrecy. 

The  doors  being  closed,  Monsieur  raised  his  eyes  toward 
the  vicomte,  and  said,  "It  appears  that  you  come  from 
Paris,  monsieur?" 

"This  minute,  monseigneur." 

"How  is  the  king?" 

"His  majesty  is  in  perfect  health,  monseigneur." 

"And  my  sister-in-law?" 

"Her  majesty,  the  queen-mother,  still  suffers  from  the 
3omplaint  in  ner  lungs,  but  for  the  last  month  she  has  been 
rather  better." 

"Somebody  told  me  you  came  on  the  part  of  Monsieur  le 
Prince.     They  must  have  been  mistaken,  surely?" 

"No,  monseigneur;  Monsieur  le  Prince  has  charged  me 
to  convey  this  letter  to  your  royal  highness,  and  I  am  to 
wait  for  an  answer  to  it." 

Kaoul  had  been  a  little  annoyed  by  this  cold  and  cautious 
reception,  and  his  voice  insensibly  sunk  to  a  low  key. 

The  prince  forgot  that  he  was  the  cause  of  this  apparent 
mystery,  and  his  fears  returned. 

He  received  the  letter  from  the  Prince  de  Conde  with  a 
haggard  look,  unsealed   it  as  he  would  have  unsealed  a  sus- 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  13 

picious  packet,  and  in  order  to  read  it  so  that  no  one  should 
remark  its  effect  upon  his  countenance,  he  turned  round. 

Madame  followed,  with  an  anxiety  almost  equal  to  that  of 
the  prince,  every  maneuver  of  her  august  husband. 

Kaoul,  impassible,  and  a  little  disengaged  by  the  atten- 
tion of  his  hosts,  looked  from  his  place  through  the  open 
window  at  the  gardens  and  the  statues  which  peopled  them. 

"Well  V  cried  Monsieur,  all  at  once,  with  a  cheerful  smile ; 
''here  is  an  agreeable  surprise,  and  a  charming  letter  from 
Monsieur  le  Prince.     Look,  madame !" 

The  table  was  too  large  to  allow  the  arm  of  the  prince  to 
reach  the  hand  of  madame ;  Eaoul  sprung  forward  to  be  their ' 
intermediary,  and  did  it  with  so  good  a  grace  as  to  procure 
a  flattering  acknowledgment  from  the  princess. 

"You  know  the  contents  of  this  letter,  no  doubt?"  said 
Gaston  to  Eaoul. 

"Yes,  monseigneur;  Monsieur  le  Prince  gave  me  the  mes- 
sage verbally,  but  upon  reflection  his  highness  took  up  his  pen." 

"It  is  beautiful  writing,"  said  madame,  "but  I  cannot  read 
it." 

"Will  you  read  it  to  madame,  Monsieur  de  Bragelonne?" 
said  the  duke. 
,     "Yes;  read  it,  if  you  please,  monsieur." 

Eaoul  began  to  read,  Monsieur  giving  again  all  his  atten- 
tion.    The  letter  was  conceived  in  these  terms: 

"Monseigneur:  The  king  is  about  to  set  out  for  the 
frontiers.  You  are  aware  that  the  marriage  of  his  majesty 
is  concluded  upon.  The  king  has  done  me  the  honor  to 
appoint  me  his  marechal-des-logis  for  this  journey  and  as  I 
knew  with  what  joy  his  majesty  would  pass  a  day  at  Blois, 
I  venture  to  ask  your  royal  highness'  permission  to  mark 
the  house  you  inhabit  as  our  quarters.  If,  however,  the  sud- 
denness of  this  request  should  create  to  your  royal  highness 
any  embarrassment,  I  entreat  you  to  say  so  ny  the  messenger 
I  send,  a  gentleman  of  my  suite,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  de 
Bragelonne.  My  itinerary  will  depend  upon  your  royal  high- 
ness' determination,  and  instead  of  passing  through  Blois,  we 
►shall  come  through  Vendome  and  Eomorantin.  I  venture 
to  hope  that  your  royal  highness  will  be  pleased  with  my  ar- 
rangement, it  being  the  expression  of  my  boundless  desire  to 
make  myself  agreeable  to  you." 

"Nothing  can  be  more  gracious  toward  us,"  said  madame, 


14  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAOELONNE. 

who  had  more  than  once  consulted  the  looks  of  her  husband 
during  the  reading  of  the  letter.  "The  king  here!"  ex- 
claimed she,  in  a  rather  louder  tone  than  would  have  been 
necessary  to  preserve  secrecy. 

"Monsieur,"  said  his  royal  highness  in  his  turn,  "you 
will  offer  my  thanks  to  Monsieur  le  Conde,  and  express  to 
him  my  gratitude  for  the  pleasure  he  has  done  me."  Kaoui 
bowed. 

"On  what  day  will  his  majesty  arrive?"  continued  the 
prince.  I 

"The  king,  monseigneur,  will  in  all  probability  arrive 
this  evening." 

"But  how,  then,  could  he  have  known  my  reply  if  it  had 
been  in  the  negative?" 

"I  was  desired,  monseigneur,  to  return  in  all  haste  co 
Beaugency,  to  give  counter-orders  to  the  courier,  who  was 
himself  to  go  back  immediately  with  counter-orders  to 
Monsieur  le  Prince." 

"His  majesty  is  at  Orleans,  then?" 

"Much  nearer,  monseigneur;  his  majesty  must  by  this 
time  have  arrived  at  Meung." 

"Does  the  court  accompany  him?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

"Apropos,  I  forgot  to  ask  you  after  Monsieur  le  Cardinal." 

"His  eminence  appears  to  enjoy  good  health,  mon- 
seigneur." 

"His  nieces  accompany  him,  no  doubt?" 

"No,  monseigneur;  his  eminence  has  ordered  the  Mesde- 
moiselles  de  Mancini  to  set  out  for  Brouage.  They  will 
follow  the  left  bank  of  the  Loire,  while  the  court  will  come 
by  the  right." 

"What!  Mademoiselle  Mary  de  Mancini  quit  the  court  in 
that  manner?"  asked  Monsieur,  his  reserve  beginning  to 
diminish. 

"Mademoiselle  Mary  de  Mancini  in  particular,"  replied 
Eaoul  discreetly. 

A  fugitive  smile,  an  imperceptible  vestige  of  his  ancient 
spirit  of  intrigue,  shot  across  the  pale  face  of  the  prince. 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  de  Bragelonne,"  then  said  Monsieur. 
"You  would,  perhaps,  not  be  willing  to  render  Monsieur  le 
Prince  the  commission  with  which  I  would  charge  you,  and 
that  is,  that  his  messenger  has  been  very  agreeable  to  me; 
but  I  will  tell  him  so  myself." 

Kaoul  bowed  his  thanks  to  Monsieur  for  the  honor  he  had 
done  him. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  15 

Monsieur  made  a  sign  to  madame,  who  struck  a  bell  which 
was  placed  at  her  right  hand.  M.  de  St.  Remy  entered, 
and  the  room  was  soon  rilled  with  people. 

"Messieurs,"  said  the  prince,  "his  majesty  is  about  to 
pay  me  the  honor  of  passing  a  day  at  Blois;  I  depend  upon 
the  king,  my  nephew,  not  having  to  repent  of  the  favor  he 
does  my  house." 

"  Vive  le  Roi!"  cried  all  the  officers  of  the  household 
with  frantic  enthusiasm,  and  M.  de  St.  Remy  louder  than 
the  rest. 

Gaston  hung  down  his  head  with  evident  chagrin.  He  had 
all  his  life  been  obliged  to  hear,  or  rather  to  undergo,  this  cry 
of  Vive  le  Roil"  which  passed  over  him.  For  along  time, 
being  unaccustomed  to  hear  it,  his  ear  had  had  rest,  and 
now  a  younger,  more  vivacious,  and  more  brilliant  royalty 
rose  up  before  him,  like  a  new  and  a  more  painful  provoca- 
tion. 

Madame  perfectly  understood  the  sufferings  of  that  timid, 
gloomy  heart;  she  rose  from  the  table;  Monsieur  imitated 
her  mechanically,  and  all  the  domestics,  with  a  buzzing 
like  that  of  several  beehives,  surrounded  Raoul  for  the 
purpose  of  questioning  him. 

Madame  saw  this  movement,  and  called  M.  de  St.  Remy. 
"This  is  not  the  time  for  gossiping,  but  working,"  said  she, 
with  the  tone  of  an  angry  housekeeper. 

M.  de  St.  Remy  hastened  to  break  the  circle  formed  by 
the  officers  round  Raoul,  so  that  the  latter  was  able  to  gain 
the  antechamber. 

"Care  will  be  taken  of  that  gentleman,  I  hope,"  added 
madame,  addressing  M.  de  St.  Remy. 

The  worthy  man  immediately  hastened  after  Raoul. 
"Madame  desires  refreshment  to  be  offered  you,"  said  he; 
"and  there  is,  besides,  a  lodging  for  you  in  the  castle." 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  de  St.  Remy,"  replied  Raoul;  "but 
you  know  how  anxious  I  must  be  to  pay  my  duty  to  Mon= 
sieur  le  Comte,  my  father." 

"That  is'  true,  that  is  true,  Monsieur  Raoul;  "present 
him,  at  the  same  time,  my  humble  respects,  if  you  please." 

Raoul  thus  once  more  got  rid  of  the  old  gentleman,  and 
pursued  his  way.  As  he  was  passing  under  the  porch,  lead- 
ing his  horse  by  the  bridle,  a  soft  voice  called  him  from  the 
depths  of  an  obscure  path. 

"Monsieur  Raoul!"  said  the  voice. 

The  young  man  turned  round  surprised,  and  saw  a  dark- 
complexioned  girl,  who,  with  a  finger  on  her  lip,  held  out 


16  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

her  other  hand  to  him.     This  girl  was  perfectly  unknown 
to  him. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE     INTERVIEW. 

Raoul  made  one  step  toward  the  girl  who  thus  called 
him. 

"But  my  horse,  madame?"  said  he. 

"Oh!  you  are  terribly  embarrassed!  Go  out  that  way — 
there  is  a  shed  in  the  outer  court;  fasten  your  horse,  and 
return  quickly." 

"I  obey,  madame." 

Raoul  was  not  four  minutes  in  performing  what  he  had 
been  directed  to  do;  e  returned  to  the  little  door,  where, 
in  darkness,  he  found  his  mysterious  conductress  waiting 
for  him,  on  the  first  steps  of  a  winding  staircase. 

"Are  you  brave  enough  to  follow  me,  Monsieur  Knight 
Errant?"  asked  the  girl,  laughing  at  the  momentary  hesi- 
tation Raoul  had  manifested. 

The  latter  replied  by  springing  up  the  dark  staircase  after 
her.  They  thus  climbed  up  three  stories,  he  behind  her, 
touching  with  his  hands,  when  he  felt  for  the  baluster,  a 
silk  dress,  which  rubbed  against  each  side  of  the  staircase. 
At  every  false  step  made  by  Raoul,  his  conductress  cried, 
"Hush!"  and  held  out  to  him  a  soft  and  perfumed  hand. 

"One  would  mount  thus  to  the  donjon  of  the  castle  with- 
out being  conscious  of  fatigue,"  said  Raoul. 

"All  of  which  means,  monsieur,  that  you  are  very  much 
perplexed,  very  tired,  and  very  uneasy.  But  be  of  good 
cheer,  monsieur;  here  we  are,  arrived." 

The  girl  threw  open  a  door,  which  immediately,  without 
any  transition,  filled  with  a  flood  of  light  the  landing  of  the 
staircase,  at  the  top  of  which  Raoul  appeared,  holding  fast 
by  the  balustrade. 

The  girl  continued  to  walk  on — he  followed  her;  she 
entered  a  chamber — he  did  the  same. 

As  soon  as  he  was  fairly  in  the  net,  he  heard  a  loud  cry, 
and,  turning  round,  saw  at  two  paces  from  him,  with  her 
hands  clasped  and  her  eyes  closed,  that  beautiful  fair  girl 
with  blue  eyes  and  white  shoulders,  who,  recognizing  him, 
had  called  him  Raoul. 

He  saw  her,  and  divined  at  once  so  much  love  and  so 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOSTNE.  /? 

much  joy  in  the  expression  of  her  countenance,  that  he 
sunk  on  his  knees  in  the  middle  of  the  chamber,  murmur- 
ing, on  his  part,  the  name  of  Louise. 

"Ah!  Montalais!  Montalais!"  she  sighed,  "it  is  very 
wicked  to  deceive  me  so." 

"Who,  I?    I  have  deceived  you?" 

"Yes;  you  told  me  you  would  go  down  to  inquire  the 
news,  and  you  have  brought  up  monsieur!" 

"Well,  I  was  obliged  to  do  so — how  else  could  he  have 
received  the  letter  you  wrote  him?" 

And  she  pointed  with  her  ringer  to  the  letter  which  was 
still  upon  the  table.  Raoul  made  a  step  to  take  it;  Louise, 
more  rapid,  although  she  had  sprung  forward  with  a  suf- 
ficiently remarkable  physical  hesitation,  reached  out  her 
hand  to  stop  him.  Raoul  came  in  contact  with  that  trem- 
bling hand,  took  it  within  his  own,  and  carried  it  so  respect- 
fully to  his  lips  that  he  might  be  said  to  have  deposited  a 
sigh  upon  it  rather  than  a  kiss. 

In  the  meantime  Mile,  de  Montalais  had  taken  the  letter, 
folded  it  carefully,  as  women  do,  in  three  folds,  and  slipped 
it  into  her  bosom. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  Louise,"  said  she;  "monsieur  will  no 
more  venture  to  take  it  hence  than  the  defunct  King  Louis 
XIII.  ventured  to  take  billets  from  the  corsage  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Hautefort." 

Raoul  blushed  at  seeing  the  smile  of  tho  two  girls;  and 
he  did  not  remark  that  the  hand  of  Louise  remained  in  his. 

"There!"  said  Montalais,  "you  Lave  pa  doned  mo, 
Louise,  for  having  brought  monsieur  to  you .  ard  you,  mon- 
sieur, bear  me  no  malice  for  having  followed  me  to  see 
mademoiselle.  Now,  then,  peace  bein?  ade,  let  us  chal 
like  old  friends.  Present  me,  Louise  to  Monsieur  de 
Bragelonne." 

"Monsieur  le  Vicomte,"  said  Louise,  with  her  quiet  grace 
and  ingenuous  smile,  "I  have  the  honor  to  present  to  you 
Mademoiselle ~Aure  de  Montalais,  maid  of  honor  to  her 
royal  highness,  madame,  and  moreover  my  friend — my  ex- 
cellent friend." 

Raoul  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"And  me,  Louise,"  said  he;  "will  you  not  present  me 
also  to  mademoiselle?" 

"Oh,  she  knows  you — she  knows  all!" 

This  unguarded  expression  made  Montalais  laugh  and 
Raoul  sigh  with  happiness,  for  he  interpreted  it  thus:  "She 
knows  all  our  love." 


18  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONtfE. 

"The  ceremonies  being  over,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte,"  said 
Montalais,  "take  a  chair,  and  tell  us  quickly  the  news  you 
bring  flying  thus." 

"Mademoiselle,  it  is  no  longer  a  secret;  the  king,  on  his 
way  to  Poitiers,  will  stop  at  Blois,  to  visit  his  royal  high- 
ness." 

"The  king  here!"  exclaimed  Montalais,  clapping  her 
hands,  "What!  are  we  going  to  see  the  court?  Only 
think,  Louise — the  real  court  from  Paris!  Oh,  good 
heavens!     But  when  will  this  happen,  monsieur?" 

"Perhaps  this  evening,  mademoiselle;  at  latest,  to- 
morrow." 

Montalais  lifted  her  shoulders  in  sign  of  vexation. 

"No  time  to  get  ready!  No  time  to  prepare  a  single 
dress!  We  are  as  far  behind  the  fashion  as  the  Poles.  We 
shall  look  like  portraits  of  the  times  of  Henry  IV.  Ah, 
monsieur!  this  is  sad  news  you  bring  us!" 

"But,  mesdemoiselles,  you  will  be  still  beautiful." 

"That's  stale!  Yes,  we  shall  be  always  beautiful,  because 
nature  has  made  us  passable;  but  we  shall  be  ridiculous, 
because  the  fashion  will  have  forgotten  us.  Alas!  ridicu- 
lous!    I  shall  be  thought  ridiculous — I!" 

"And  by  whom?"  said  Louise  innocently. 

"By  whom?  You  are  a  strange  girl,  my  dear.  Is  that  a 
question  to  put  to  me?  I  mean  everybody;  I  mean  the 
courtiers,  the  nobles;  I  mean  the  king." 

"Pardon  me,  my  good  friend;  but  as  here  every  one  is 
accustomed  to  see  us  as  we  are " 

"Granted;  but  that  is  about  to  change,  and  we  shall  be 
ridiculous,  even  for  Blois;  for  close  to  us  will  be  seen  the 
fashions  from  Paris,  and  they  will  perceive  that  we  are  in 
the  fashion  of  Blois!     It  is  enough  to  make  one  wild!" 
,     "Console  yourself,  mademoiselle." 

"Well,  so  let  it  be!  After  all,  so  much  the  worse  for 
those  who  do  not  find  me  to  their  taste!"  said  Montalais 
philosophically. 

"They  would  be  very  difficult  to  please,"  replied  Eaoul, 
faithful  to  his  regular  system  of  gallantry. 

"Thank  you.  Monsieur  le  Vicomte.  We  were  saying, 
then,  that  the  king  is  coming  to  Blois?" 

"With  all  the  court." 

"Mesdemoiselles  de  Mancini,  will  they  be  with  them?" 

"No,  certainly  not." 

"But  as  the  king,  it  is  said,  cannot  do  without  Made- 
moiselle Mary?" 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BKAGELONNE.  19 

"Mademoiselle,  the  king  must  do  without  her.  Monsieur 
le  Cardinal  will  have  it  so.  He  has  exiled  his  nieces  to 
Brouage." 

"He!  the  hypocrite!" 

"Hush!"  said  Louise,  pressing  a  finger  on  her  friend's 
rosy  lips. 

"Bah!  nobody  can  hear  me.  I  say  that  old  Mazarino 
Mazarini  is  a  hypocrite,  who  burns  impatiently  to  make  his 
niece  Queen  of  France." 

"That  cannot  be,  mademoiselle,  since  Monsieur  le  Car- 
dinal, on  the  contrary,  has  brought  about  the  marriage  of 
his  majesty  with  the  Infanta  Maria  Theresa." 

Montalais  looked  Raoul  full  in  the  face,  and  said,  "And 
do  you  Parisians  believe  in  these  tales?  Well!  we  are  a 
little  more  cunning  than  you  at  Blois." 

"Mademoiselle,  if  the  king  goes  beyond  Poitiers  and  sets 
out  for  Spain;  if  the  articles  of  the  marriage  contract  are 
agreed  upon  by  Don  Luis  de  Haro  and  his  eminence,  you 
must  plainly  perceive  that  it  is  not  child's  play." 

"All  very  fine!  but  the  king  is  king,  I  suppose?" 

"No  doubt,  mademoiselle;  but  the  cardinal  is  the  car- 
dinal." 

"The  king  is  not  a  man  then!  And  he  does  not  love 
Mary  Mancini?" 

"He  adores  her." 

"Well,  he  will  marry  her  then.  We  shall  have  war  with 
Spain.  Monsieur  Mazarin  will  spend  a  few  of  the  millions 
he  has  put  away;  our  gentlemen  will  perform  prodigies  of 
valor  in  their  encounters  with  the  proud  Castilians,  and 
many  of  them  will  return  crowned  with  laurels,  to  be  re- 
croAvned  by  us  with  myrtles.  Now,  that  is  my  view  of 
politics." 

"Montalais,  you  are  wild!"  said  Louise,  "and  every  ex- 
aggeration attracts  you  as  light  does  a  moth." 

"Louise,  you  are  so  extremely  reasonable  that  you  will 
never  know  how  to  love." 

"Oh!"  said  Louise,  in  a  tone  of  tender  reproach,  "don't 
you  see,  Montalais?  The  queen-mother  desires  to  marry 
her  son  to  the  infanta;  would  you  wish  him  to  disobey  his 
mother?  Is  it  for  a  royal  heart  like  this  to  set  such  a  bad 
example?  WThen  parents  forbid  love,  love  must  be 
banished." 

And  Louise  sighed;  Raoul  cast  down  his  eyes,  with  an 
expression  of  constraint.  Montalais,  on  her  part,  laughed 
aloud. 


20  THE   YICOMTE   DE  PRAGELONNE. 

"Well,  I  have  no  parents!"  said  she. 

"You  are  acquainted,  without  doubt,  with  the  state  of 
health  of  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere?"  said  Louise, 
after  breathing  that  sigh  which  had  revealed  so  many  grief* 
in  its  eloquent  utterance. 

"No,  mademoiselle,"  replied  Raoul,  "I  have  not  yet  paid 
my  respects  to  my  father;  I  was  going  to  his  house  when 
Mademoiselle  de  Montalais  so  kindly  stopped  me.  I  hop<$ 
,the  comte  is  well.  You  have  heard  nothing  to  the  con- 
trary, have  you?" 

"No,  Monsieur  Raoul — nothing,  thank  God!" 

Here,  for  several  instants,  ensued  a  silence,  during  whiok 
two  spirits,  which  followed  the  same  idea,  communicated 
perfectly,  without  even  the  assistance  of  a  single  glance. 

"Oh,  heavent!"  exclaimed  Montalais,  in  a  fright,  "there 
is  somebody  coming  up." 

"Who  can  it  be?"  said  Louise,  rising  in  great  agitation. 

"Mesdemoiselles,  I  inconvenience  you  very  much.  I  have, 
without  doubt,  been  very  indiscreet,"  stammered  Raoul. 
very  ill  at  ease. 

"It  is  a  heavy  step,"  said  Louise. 

"Ah!  if  it  is  only  Monsieur  Malicorne,"  added  Monta- 
lais, "do  not  disturb  yourselves." 

Louise  and  Raoul  looked  at  each  other  to  inquire  who  M. 
Malicorne  could  be. 

"There  is  no  occasion  to  mind  him,"  continued  Monta- 
lais, "he  is  not  jealous." 

"But,  mademoiselle — "  said  Raoul. 

"Yes,  I  understand.     Well,  he  is  as  discreet  as  I  am." 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Louise,  who  had  applied  her  ear 
to  the  door,  which  had  been  left  ajar;  "it  is  my  mother's 
step." 

"Madame  de  St.  Remy!  Where  shall  I  hide  myself?" 
exclaimed  Raoul,  catching  at  the  dress  of  Montalais,  who 
looked  quite  bewildered. 

"Yes,"  said  she;  "yes,  I  know  the  clicking  of  those 
pattens.  It  is  our  excellent  mother.  Monsieur  le  Vicomte, 
what  a  pity  it  is  the  window  looks  upon  a  stone  pavement, 
and  that  fifty  paces  below  it." 

Raoul  glanced  at  the  balcony  in  despair.  Louise  seized 
his  arm,  and  held  it  tight. 

"Oh,  how  silly  I  am!"  said  Montalais;  "have  I  not  the 
robe-of-ceremony  closet?  It  looks  as  if  it  were  made  on 
purpose." 

It  was  quite  time  to  act;  Mme.  de  St.  Remy  was  coming 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  21 

up  at  a  quicker  pace  than  usual.  She  gained  the  landing 
at  the  moment  when  Montalais,  as  in  all  scenes  of  surpiises, 
shut  the  closet  by  leaning  with  her  back  against  the  door. 

''Ah!"  cried  Mme.  de  St.  Remy,  "you  are  here,  are  you, 
Louise?" 

"Yes,  madame,"  replied  she,  more  pale  than  if  she  had 
committed  a  great  crime. 

"Well,  well!" 
i     "Pray  be  seated,  madame,"  said  Montalais,  offering  her 
a  chair,  which  she  placed  so  that  the  back  was  toward  the 
closet. 

"Thank  you,  Mademoiselle  Aure — thank  you.  Come, 
my  child,  be  quick." 

"Where  do  you  wish  me  to  go,  madame?" 

"Why,  home,  to  be  sure;  have  you  not  to  prepare  your 
toilet?" 

"What  did  you  say?"  cried  Montalais,  hastening  to  affect 
surprise,  so  fearful  was  she  that  Louise  would  in  some  way 
commit  herself. 

"You  don't  know  the  news,  then?"  said  Mme.  de  St. 
Remy. 

"What  news,  madame,  is  it  possible  for  two  girls  to  learn 
up  in  this  dovecote?" 

"What,  have  you  seen  nobody?" 

"Madame,  you  talk  in  enigmas,  and  you  torment  us  at  a 
slow  tire!"  cried  Montalais,  who,  terrified  at  seeing  Louise 
become  paler  and  paler,  did  not  know  to  what  saint  to  put 
up  her  vows. 

At  length  she  caught  an  eloquent  look  of  her  companion, 
one  of  those  looks  which  would  convey  intelligence  to  a 
brick  wall.  Louise  directed  her  attention  to  a  hat — Raoul's 
unlucky  hat,  which  was  set  out  in  all  its  feathery  splendor 
upon  the  table. 

Montalais  sprung  toward  it,  and,  seizing  it  with  her  left 
hand,  passed  it  behind  her  into  the  right,  concealing  it  •« 
she  was  speaking. 

"Well,"  said  Mme.  de  St.  Remy,  "a  courier  has  arrived, 
announcing  the  approach  of  the  king.  There,  mesdemoi- 
selles;  there  is  something  to  make  you  put  on  your  best 
looks." 

"Quick,  quick!"  cried  Montalais.  "Follow  madame, 
your  mother,  Louise;  and  leave  me  to  get  ready  my  dress 
of  ceremony." 

Louise  arose;  her  mother  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  led. 
her  out  on  to  the  landing. 


22  THE   VICOMTE    DE    ERAGELONNE. 

"Come  along,"  said  she;  then  adding,  in  a  low  voice, 
"When  I  forbid  you  to  come  to  the  apartment  of  Montalais, 
why  do  you  do  so?" 

"Madame,  she  is  my  friend.  Besides.,  I  .»Tas  but  just 
come." 

"Did  you  see  nobody  concealed  while  you  were  there?" 

"Madame!" 

"I  saw  a  man's  hat,  I  tell  you — the  hat  of  that  fellow, 
that  good-for-nothing." 

"Madame!"  repeated  Louise. 

"Of  that  do-nothing,  De  Malicorne.  A  maid  of  honoi  to 
have  such  company — fy,  fy!"  And  their  voices  were  lost 
in  the  depths  of  the  narrow  staircase. 

Montalais  had  not  missed  a  word  of  this  conversation, 
which  echo  conveyed  to  her  as  if  through  a  tunnel.  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders  on  seeing  Raoul,  who  had  listened 
likewise,  issue  from  the  closet. 

"Poor  Montalais!"  said  she,  "the  victim  of  friendship! 
Poor  Malicorne,  the  victim  of  love!" 

She  stopped  on  viewing  the  tragic-comic  face  of  Raoul, 
who  was  vexed  at  having,  in  one  day,  surprised  so  many 
secrets. 

"Oh,  mademoiselle!"  said  he,  "how  can  we  repay  your 
kindness?" 

"Oh,  we  will  balance  accounts  some  day,"  said  she. 
"For  the  present,  be  gone,  Monsieur  de  Bragelonne,  for 
Madame  de  St.  Remy  is  not  overindulgent;  and  any  indis- 
cretion on  her  part  might  bring  hither  a  domiciliary  visit, 
which  would  be  disagreeable  to  all  parties." 

"But,  Louise — how  shall  I  know " 

"Be  gone!  be  gone!  King  Louis  XI.  knew  very  well 
what  he  was  about  when  he  invented  the  post." 

"Alas!"  sighed  Raoul. 

"And  am  I  not  here — I,  who  am  worth  all  the  posts  in 
the  kingdom?  Quick,  I  say,  to  horse!  so  that  if  Madame  de 
St.  Remy  should  return  for  the  purpose  of  preaching  me  a 
lesson  on  morality,  she  may  not  find  you  here." 

"She  would  tell  my  father,  would  she  not?"  murmured 
Raoul. 

"And  you  would  be  scolded.  Ah,  :icomte,  it  is  very 
plain  you  come  from  court;  you  are  as  timid  as  the  king. 
Peste!  at  Blois  we  contrive  better  than  that,  to  do  without 
papa's  consent.     Ask  Malicorne  else." 

And  at  these  words  the  girl  pushed  Raoul  out  of  the 
room  by  the  shoulders.     He  glided  swiftly  down  to  the 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  23 

porch,  regained  his  horse,  mounted,  and  set  off  as  if  he  had 
had  Monsieur's  guards  at  his  heels. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FATHER     AND     SON. 

Raoul  followed  the  well-known  road,  so  dear  to  his 
memory,  which  led  from  Blois  to  the  residence  of  the 
Comte  de  la  Fere. 

The  reader  will  dispense  with  a  second  description  of  that 
habitation;  he,  perhaps,  has  been  with  us  there  before,  and 
knows  it.  Only,  since  our  last  journey  thither,  the  walls 
had  taken  a  grayer  tint,  and  the  brick-work  assumed  a  more 
harmonious  copper  tone;  the  trees  had  grown,  and  many 
that  then  only  stretched  their  slender  branches  along  the 
tops  of  the  hedges,  now,  bushy,  strong,  and  luxuriant,  cast 
around,  beneath  boughs  swollen  with  sap,  a  thick  shade  of 
flowers  or  fruit  for  the  benefit  of  the  traveler. 

Raoul  perceived,  from  a  distance,  the  two  little  turrets, 
the  dovecote  in  the  elms,  and  the  flights  of  pigeons,  which 
wheeled  incessantly  around  that  brick  cone,  seemingly  with- 
out a  power  to  quit  it,  like  the  sweet  memories  which 
hover  round  a  spirit  at  peace. 

As  he  approached  he  heard  the  noise  of  the  pulleys 
which  grated  under  the  weight  of  the  mossy  pails;  he  also 
fancied  he  heard  the  melancholy  moaning  of  the  water 
which  falls  back  again  into  the  wells — a  sad,  funereal, 
6olemn  sound,  which  strikes  the  ear  of  the  child  and  the 
poet — both  dreamers  —  which  the  English  call  splash, 
Arabian  poets,  gasgachau,  and  which  we  Frenchmen,  who 
would  be  poets,  can  only  translate  by  a  paraphrase — "the 
noise  of  water  falling  into  water." 

It  was  more  than  a  year  since  Raoul  had  been  to  visit  his 
father.  He  had  passed  the  whole  time  in  the  household  of 
M.  le  Prince.  In  fact,  after  all  the  commotions  of  the 
Fronde,  of  the  early  period  of  which  we  formerly  attempted 
to  give  a  sketch,  Louis  de  Condehad  made  a  public,  solemn, 
and  frank  reconciliation  with  the  court.  During  all  the 
time  that  the  rupture  between  the  king  and  the  prince  had 
lasted,  the  prince,  who  had  long  entertained  a  great  regard 
for  Bragelonne,  had  in  vain  offered  him  advantages  of  the 
most  dazzling  kind  for  a  young  man.  The  Comte  de  la 
Fere,  still  faithful  to  his  principles  of  loyalty  and  royalty, 


24  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

one  day  developed  before  his  son  in  the  vaults  of  St.  Denis 
— the  Comte  de  la  Fere,  in  the  name  of  his  son,  had  always 
declined  them.  Moreover,  instead  of  following  M.  de 
Conde  in  his  rebellion,  the  vicomte  had  followed  M. 
de  Turenne,  fighting  for  the  king.  Then,  when  M.  de 
Turenne,  in  his  turn,  had  appeared  to  abandon  the  royal 
cause,  he  had  quitted  M.  de  Turenne,  as  he  had  quitted  M. 
de  Conde.  It  resulted  from  this  invariable  line  of  conduct, 
that,  as  Conde  and  Turenne  had  never  been  conquerors  of 
each  other  but  under  the  standard  of  the  king,  Raoul,  how- 
ever young,  had  ten  victories  inscribed  on  his  list  of 
services,  and  not  one  defeat  from  which  his  bravery  or 
conscience  had  to  suffer. 

Eaoul,  therefore,  had,  in  compliance  with  the  wish  of  his 
father,  served  obstinately  and  passively  the  fortunes  of 
Louis  XIV.,  in  spite  of  the  tergiversations  which  were 
endemic,  and,  it  might  be  said,  inevitable,  at  that  period. 

M.  de  Conde,  on  being  restored  to  favor,  had  at  once 
availed  himself  of  all  the  privileges  of  the  amnesty  to  ask 
for  many  things  back  again  which  had  been  granted  him 
before,  and  among  others,  Raoul.  M.  de  la  Fere,  with  his 
invariable  good  sense,  had  immediately  sent  him  again  to 
the  prince. 

A  year,  then,  had  passed  away  since  the  separation  of  the 
father  and  son;  a  few  letters  had  softened,  but  not  removed, 
the  pains  of  absence.  We  have  seen  that  Raoul  had  left  at 
Blois  another  love  in  addition  to  filial  love.  But  let  us  do 
him  this  justice — if  it  had  not  been  for  chance  and  Mile,  de 
Montalais,  two  tempting  demons,  Raoul,  after  delivering 
his  message,  woul]  have  galloped  off  toward  his  father's 
house,  turning  his  head  round,  perhaps,  but  without  stop- 
ping for  a  single  instant,  even  if  Louise  had  held  out  her 
arms  to  him. 

So  the  first  part  of  the  distance  was  given  by  Raoul  to 
regretting  the  part  which  he  had  been  forced  to  quit  so 
quickly,  that  is  to  say,  his  lady-love;  and  the  other  part  to 
the  friend  he  was  about  to  join,  so  much  too  slowly  for  his 
wishes. 

Raoul  found  the  garden  gate  open,  and  rode  straight  in, 
without  regarding  the  long  arms,  raised  in  anger,  of  an  old 
man  dressed  in  a  jacket  of  violet-colored  wool,  and  a  large 
cap  of  old  faded  velvet. 

The  old  man,  who  was  weeding  with  his  hands  a  bed  of 
dwarf  roses  and  marguerites,  was  indignant  at  seeing  a 
horse  thus  traversing  his  sanded  and  nicely  raked  walks, 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOKNE.  25 

He  even  ventured  a  vigorous  ''Humph!"  which  made  the 
cavalier  turn  round.  Then  there  was  a  change  of  scene; 
for  no  sooner  had  he  caught  sight  of  Raoul's  face  than  the 
old  man  sprung  up  and  set  off  in  the  direction  of  the  house, 
amid  interrupted  growlings,  which  he  meant  to  be  paroxysms 
of  wild  delight. 

When  arrived  at  the  stables,  Raoul  gave  his  horse  to  a 
little  lackey,  and  sprung  up  the  perron  with  an  ardor  that 
would  have  delighted  the  heart  of  his  father. 

He  crossed  the  antechamber,  the  dining-room,  and  the 
salon,  without  meeting  with  any  one;  at  length,  on  reach- 
ing the  door  of  M.  de  la  Fere's  apartment,  he  rapped  im- 
patiently, and  entered  almost  without  waiting  for  the  word 
"Enter!"  which  was  thrown  to  him  by  a  voice  at  once  sweet 
and  serious. 

The  comte  was  seated  at  a  table  covered  with  papers  and 
books;  he  was  still  the  noble,  handsome  gentleman  of  for- 
mer days,  but  time  had  given  to  this  nobleness  and  beauty 
a  more  solemn  and  distinct  character.  A  brow  white  and 
void  of  wrinkles,  beneath  his  long  hair,  now  more  white 
than  black;  an  eye  piercing  and  mild,  under  the  lids  of  a 
young  man;  his  mustache,  fine  but  slightly  grizzled,  waved 
over  lips  of  a  pure  and  delicate  model,  as  if  they  had  never 
been  curled  by  mortal  passions;  a  shape  straight  and  sup- 
ple; an  irreproachable  but  thin  hand — this  vvr-  what  re- 
mained of  the  illustrious  gentleman  whom  so  ma  y  illus- 
trious mouths  had  praised  under  the  name  of  Athos.  He 
was  engaged  in  correcting  the  pages  of  a  manuscript  book, 
entirely  filled  by  his  own  hand. 

Raoul  seized  his  father  by  the  shoulders,  by  the  neck,  as 
he  could,  and  embraced  him  so  tenderly  and  so  rapidly 
that  the  comte  had  neither  strength  nor  time  to  disengage 
himself,  or  to  overcome  his  paternal  emotions. 

"What,  you  here,  Raoul — you?    Is  it  possible?"  said  he. 

"Oh,  monsieur,  monsieur,  what  joy  to  see  you  once 
again!" 

"But  you  don't  answer  me,  vicomte.  Have  you  leave  of 
absence,  or  has  some  misfortune  happened  at  Paris?" 

"Thank  God,  monsieur,"  replied  Raoul,  calming  himself 
by  degrees,  "nothing  has  happened  but  what  is  fortunate. 
The  king  is  going  to  be  married,  as  I  had  the  honor  of  in- 
forming you  in  my  last  letter,  and,  on  his  way  to  Spain, 
will  pass  through  Blois." 

"To  pay  a  visit  to  Monsieur?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Comte.     So,  fearing  to  find  him  un- 


26  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BEAGELONNE. 

prepared,  or  wishing  to  be  particularly  polite  to  him,  Mod. 
sieur  le  Prince  sent  me  forward  to  have  the  lodgings  ready." 

"You  have  seen  Monsieur?"  asked  the  eomte  eagerly. 

"I  have  had  that  honor." 

"At  the  castle?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  Eaoul,  casting  down  his  eyes, 
because,  no  doubt,  he  had  felt  there  was  something  more 
than  curiosity  in  the  comte's  inquiries. 

"Ah,  indeed,  vicomte?  Accept  my  compliments  there- 
upon." 

Eaoul  bowed. 

"But  you  have  seen  some  one  else  at  Blois?" 

"Monsieur,  I  saw  her  royal  highness,  madame." 

"That's  very  well;  but  it  is  not  madame  that  I  mean." 

Eaoul  colored  deeply,  but  made  no  reply. 

"You  do  not  appear  to  understand  me,  Monsieur  le 
Vicomte,"  persisted  M.  de  la  Fere,  without  accenting  his 
words  more  strongly,  but  with  a  rather  severer  look. 

"I  understand  you  quite  plainly,  monsieur,"  replied 
Eaoul,  "and  if  I  hesitated  a  little  in  my  reply,  you  are  well 
assured  I  am  not  seeking  for  a  falsehood." 

"No,  you  cannot  lie;  and  that  makes  me  so  astonished 
you  should  be  so  long  in  saying  yes  or  no." 

"I  cannot  answer  you  without  understanding  you  well; 
and  if  I  have  understood  you,  you  will  take  my  first  words 
in  ill  part.  You  will  be  displeased,  no  doubt,  Monsieur  le 
Comte,  because  I  have  seen " 

"Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere — have  you  not?" 

"It  was  of  her  you  meant  to  speak,  I  know  very  well, 
monsieur,"  said  Eaoul,  with  inexpressible  sweetness. 

"And  I  ask  you  if  you  have  seen  her." 

"Monsieur,  I  was  ignorant,  when  I  entered  the  castle, 
that  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere  was  there;  it  was  only  on 
my  return,  after  I  had  performed  my  mission,  that  chance 
brought  us  together.  I  have  had  the  honor  of  paying  my 
respects  to  her." 

"But  what  do  you  call  the  chance  that  led  you  into  the 
presence  of  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere?" 

"Mademoiselle  de  Montalais,  monsieur." 

"And  who  is  Mademoiselle  de  Montalais?" 

"A  young  lady  I  did  not  know  before,  whom  I  had  never 
seen.     She  is  maid  of  honor  to  madame." 

"Monsieur  le  Vicomte,  I  will  push  my  interrogatory  no 
further,  and  reproach  myself  with  having  carried  it  so  far. 
I  had  desired  you  to  avoid  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere,  and 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BKAGELONJs'E.  27 

not  to  see  her  without  my  permission.  Oh,  I  am  quite  sure 
you  have  told  me  the  truth,  and  that  you  took  no  measures 
to  approach  her.  Chance  has  done  me  this  injury;  I  do 
not  accuse  you  of  it.  I  will  be  content,  then,  with  what  I 
formerly  said  to  you  concerning  this  young  lady.  I  do  not 
reproach  her  with  anything — God  is  my  witness;  only  it  is 
not  my  intention  or  wish  that  you  should  frequent  her  place 
of  residence.  I  beg  you  once  more,  my  dear  Eaoul,  to 
understand  that."  , 

It  was  plain  the  limpid,  pure  eye  of  Eaoul  was  troubled 
at  this  speech. 

"Now,  my  friend,"  said  the  comte,  with  his  soft  smile,  and 
in  his  customary  tone,  ''let  us  talk  of  other  matters.  You 
are  returning,  perhaps,  to  your  duty?" 

"No,  monsieur,  I  have  no  duty  for  to-day,  except  the 
pleasure  of  remaining  with  you.  The  prince  kindly  ap- 
pointed me  no  other,  which  was  so  much  in  accord  with  my 
wish." 

"Is  the  king  well?" 

"Perfectly." 

"And  Monsieur  le  Prince  also?" 

"As  usual,  monsieur." 

The  comte  forgot  to  inquire  after  Mazarin;  that  was  an 
old  habit. 

"Well,  Kaoul,  since  you  are  entirely  mine,  I  will  give  up 
my  whole  day  to  you.  Embrace  me — again,  again!  You 
fire  at  home,  vicomte!  Ah!  there  is  our  old  Grimaud. 
Come  in,  Grimaud;  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  is  desirous  of  em- 
bracing you  likewise." 

The  good  old  man  did  not  require  to  be  twice  told;  he 
rushed  in  with  open  arms,  Eaoul  meeting  him  halfway. 

"Now,  if  you  please,  we  will  go  into  the  garden,  Eaoul. 
I  will  show  you  the  new  lodging  I  have  had  prepared  for 
you  during  your  leave  of  absence;  and  while  examining  the 
last  winter's  plantations,  and  two  saddle-horses  I  have  just 
changed  for,  you  will  give  me  all  the  news  of  our  friends  in 
Paris." 

The  comte  closed  his  manuscript,  took  the  young  man's 
arm,  and  went  out  into  the  garden  with  him. 

Grimaud  looked  at  Raoul  with  a  melancholy  air  as  the 
young  man  passed  out;  observing  that  his  head  nearly 
touched  the  traverse  of  the  doorway,  stroking  his  white 
rot/ale,  he  allowed  the  single  word,  "Grown!"  to  escape 
him. 


28  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

CHAPTER   V. 

IN     WHICH     SOMETHING     WILL     BE     SAID     OF      CROPOLI — OF 
CROPOLI   AND   OF   A    GREAT    UNKNOWN    PAINTER. 

While  the  Comte  de  la  Fere,  with  Raoul,  visits  the  new 
buildings  he  has  had  erected,  and  the  new  horses  he  has 
bought,  with  the  reader's  permission  we  will  lead  him  back 
to  the  city  of  Blois,  and  make  him  a  witness  of  the  unaccus- 
tomed activity  which  pervades  that  city. 

It  was  in  the  hotels  that  the  surprise  of  the  news  brought 
by  Raoul  was  most  sensibly  felt. 

In  fact,  the  king  and  the  court  at  Blois,  that  is  to  say,  a 
hundred  horsemen,  ten  carriages,  two  hundred  horses,  as 
many  lackeys  as  masters — where  was  this  crowd  to  be 
housed?  Where  were  to  be  lodged  all  the  gentry  of  the 
neighborhood,  who  would  flock  in  two  or  three  hours  after 
the  news  had  enlarged  the  circle  of  its  report,  like  the  in- 
creasing circumferences  produced  by  a  stone  thrown  into  a 
placid  lake? 

Blois,  as  peaceful  in  the  morning,  as  we  have  seen,  as  the 
calmest  lake  in  the  world,  at  the  announcement  of  the  royal 
arrival,  was  suddenly  filled  with  the  tumult  and  buzzing  of 
a  swarm  of  bees. 

All  the  servants  of  the  castle,  under  the  inspection  of  the 
officers,  were  sent  into  the  city  in  quest  of  provisions,  and 
ten  horsemen  were  dispatched  to  the  preserves  of  Chambord 
to  seek  for  game,  to  the  fisheries  of  Beuvion  for  fish,  and  to 
the  gardens  of  Chiverny  for  fruits  and  flowers. 

Precious  tapestries,  and  lusters  with  great  gilt  chains, 
were  drawn  from  he  wardrobes;  an  army  of  the  poor  were 
engaged  in  sweeping  the  courts  and  washing  the  stone 
fronts,  while  their  wives  went  in  droves  to  the  meadows  be- 
yond the  Loire,  to  gather  green  boughs  and  field  flowers. 
The  whole  city,  not  to  be  behind  in  this  luxury  of  cleanli- 
ness, assumed  its  best  toilet  with  the  help  of  brushes, 
brooms,  and  water. 

The  kennels  of  the  upper  city,  swollen  by  these  continued 
lotions,  became  rivers  at  the  bottom  of  the  city,  and  the 
pavement,  generally  very  muddy,  it  must  be  allowed,  took 
a  clean  face,  and  absolutely  shone  in  the  friendly  rays  of 
the  sun. 

Next  the  music  was  to  be  provided ;  drawers  wore  emptied : 
the  shop  keepers  had  a  glorious  trade  in  wax.  ribbons,  and 
sword-knots;  housekeepers  laid   in  stores  of  bread,   meat, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONtfE,.  29 

and  spices.  Already  numbers  of  the  citizens,  whose  houses 
were  furnished  as  if  for  a  siege,  having  nothing  more  to  do, 
donned  their  festive  clothes,  and  directed  their  course  to- 
ward the  city  gate,  in  order  to  be  the  first  to  signal  or  see 
the  cortege.  They  knew  very  well  that  the  king  would  not 
arrive  before  night,  perhaps  not  before  the  next  morning. 
But  what  is  expectation  but  a  kind  of  folly,  and  what  is 
that  folly  but  an  excess  of  hope? 

In  the  lower  city,  at  scarcely  a  hundred  paces  from  the 
Castle  of  the  States,  between  the  mall  and  the  castle,  in  a 
sufficiently  handsome  street,  then  called  Eue  Vieille,  and 
which  must,  in  fact,  have  been  very  old,  stood  a  venerable 
edifice,  with  pointed  gables,  of  squat  and  large  dimensions, 
ornamented  with  three  windows  looking  into  the  street  on 
the  first  floor,  with  two  in  the  second,  and  with  a  little  ceil 
de  bceufin  the  third. 

On  the  sides  of  this  triangle  had  recently  been  constructed 
a  parallelogram  of  considerable  size,  which  encroached  upon 
the  street  remorselessly,  according  to  the  familiar  uses  of 
the  edility  of  that  period.  The  street  was  narrowed  by  a 
quarter  by  it,  but  then  the  house  was  enlarged  by  a  half; 
and  was  not  that  a  sufficient  compensation? 

Tradition  said  that  this  house  with  the  pointed  gables 
was  inhabited,  in  the  time  of  Henry  III.,  by  a  councilor  of 
state  whom  Queen  Catherine  came,  some  say  to  visit,  and 
others  to  strangle.  However  that  may  be,  the  good  lady 
nrnst  have  stepped  with  a  circumspect  foot  over  the  thresh- 
old of  this  building. 

After  the  councilor  had  died — whether  by  strangulation 
or  naturally  is  of  no  consequence — the  house  had  been  sold, 
then  abandoned,  and  lastly  isolated  from  the  other  houses 
of  the  street.  Toward  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIII.  only,  an  Italian,  named  Cropoli,  escaped  from  the 
kitchens  of  the  Marquis  d'Ancre,  came  and  took  possession 
i  of  this  house.  There  he  established  a  little  hostelry,  in 
which  was  fabricated  a  maccaroni  so  delicious  that  people 
1  came  from  miles  round  to  fetch  it  or  eat  it. 

So  famous  had  the  house  become  ^or  it  that  when  Mary 
de  Medici  was  a  prisoner,  as  we  know,  in  the  castle  of  Blois, 
she  once  sent  for  some. 

It  was  precisely  on  the  day  she  had  escaped  by  the  famous 
window.  The  dish  of  maccaroni  was  left  upon  the  table, 
only  just  tasted  by  the  royal  mouth. 

This  double  favor,  of  a  strangulation  and  a  maccaroni, 
conferred  upon  the  triangular  house,  gave  poor  Cropoli  a 


80  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONN1. 

fancy  to  grace  his  hostelry  with  a  pompous  title.  But  his 
quality  of  an  Italian  was  no  recommendation  in  these  times, 
and  his  small,  well-concealed  fortune  forbid  attracting  too 
much  attention. 

When  he  found  himself  about  to  die,  which  happened  in 
1643,  just  after  the  death  of  Louis  XIII. ,  he  called  to  him 
his  son,  a  young  cook  of  great  promise,  and  with  tears  in 
his  eyes  he  recommended  him  to  preserve  carefully  the 
secret  of  the  maccaroni,  to  Frenchify  his  name,  and  at 
length,  when  the  political  horizon  should  be  cleared  from 
the  clouds  which  obscured  it — this  was  practiced  then  as  in 
our  day — to  order  of  the  nearest  smith  a  handsome  sign, 
upon  which  a  famous  painter,  whom  he  named,  should  de- 
sign two  queens'  portraits,  with  these  words  as  a  legend: 
"To  the  Medici." 

The  worthy  Cropoli,  after  these  recommendations,  had 
only  sufficient  time  to  point  out  to  his  young  successor  a 
chimney,  under  the  slab  of  which  he  had  hidden  a  thou- 
sand ten-franc  louis,  and  then  expired. 

Cropoli,  the  younger,  like  a  man  of  good  heart,  supported 
the  loss  with  resignation,  and  the  gain  without  insolence. 
He  began  by  accustoming  the  public  to  sound  the  final  i  of 
his  name  so  little,  that,  by  the  aid  of  general  complaisance, 
he  was  soon  called  nothing  but  M.  Cropole,  which  is  quite  a 
French  name.  He  then  married,  having  had  in  his  eyes  a 
little  French  girl,  from  whose  parents  he  extorted  a  reason- 
able dowry  by  snowing  them  what  there  was  beneath  the 
slab  of  the  chimney. 

These  two  points  accomplished,  he  went  in  search  of  the 
painter  who  was  to  paint  the  sign,  and  he  was  soon  found. 
He  was  an  old  Italian,  a  rival  of  the  Eaphaels  and  the 
Caracchi,  but  an  unfortunate  rival.  He  said  he  was  of  the 
Venetian  school,  doubtless  from  his  fondness  for  color. 
His  works,  of  which  he  had  never  sold  one,  attracted  the 
eye  at  a  distance  of  a  hundred  paces;  but  they  so  formidably 
displeased  the  citizens  that  he  had  finished  by  painting  no 
more. 

He  boasted  of  having  painted  a  bath-room  for  Mme.  la 
Marechale  d'Ancre,  and  moaned  over  this  chamber  having 
been  burned  at  the  time  of  the  marechal's  disaster. 

Cropoli,  in  his  character  of  a  compatriot,  was  indulgent 
toward  Pittrino,  which  was  the  name  of  the  artist.  Per- 
haps he  had  seen  the  famous  pictures  of  the  bath-room. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  he  held  in  such  esteem,  we  may  say  in 
such  friendship,  the  famous  Pittrino,  that  he  took  him  into 
his  own  house 


tfHE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  ^1 

Pittrino,  grateful,  and  fed  with  maccaroni,  set  about 
propagating  the  reputation  of  this  national  dish,  and  from 
the  time  of  its  founder  he  had  rendered,  with  his  inde- 
fatigable tongue,  signal  services  to  the  house  of  Cropoli. 

As  he  grew  old  he  attached  himself  to  the  son  as  he  had 
done  to  the  father,  and  by  degrees  became  a  kind  of  over- 
looker of  a  house  in  which  his  remarkable  integrity,  hit 
acknowledged  sobriety,  and  a  thousand  other  virtues  useless 
to  enumerate,  gave  him  an  eternal  place  by  the  fireside, 
with  a  right  of  inspection  over  the  domestics.  Besides 
this,  it  was  he  who  tasted  the  maccaroni,  to  maintain  the 
pure  flavor  of  the  ancient  tradition ;  and  it.  must  be  allowed 
that  he  never  permitted  &  grain  of  pepper  too  much  or  an 
atom  of  parmesan  too  little.  His  joy  was  at  its  height  on 
that  day  when  called  upon  to  share  the  secret  of  Cropoli 
the  younger  and  to  paint  the  famous  sign. 

He  was  seen  at  once  rummaging  with  ardor  in  an  old 
box,  in  which  he  found  some  pencils,  a  little  gnawed  by 
the  rats,  but  still  passable;  some  colors  in  bladders,  almost 
dried  up ;  some  linseed-oil  in  a  bottle,  and  a  palette  which 
had  formerly  belonged  to  Bronzino,  that  dieu  de  la  pit- 
toure,  as  the  ultra-montane  artist  always  called  him. 

Pittrino  was  puffed  up  with  all  the  joy  of  a  rehabilitation. 

He  did  as  Raphael  had  done — he  changed  his  style,  and 
painted,  in  the  fashion  of  the  Albanian,  two  goddesses 
rather  than  two  queens.  These  illustrious  ladies  appeared 
so  lovely  on  the  sign — they  presented  to  the  astonished  eyes 
such  an  assemblage  of  lilies  and  roses,  the  enchanting  re- 
sult of  the  change  of  style  in  Pittrino — they  assumed  the 
poses  of  sirens  so  Anacreontieally — that  the  principal 
Schevin,  when  admitted  to  view  this  capital  piece  in  the 
salle  of  Cropole,  at  once  declared  that  these  ladies  were  too 
handsome  to  figure  as  a  sign  in  the  eyes  of  passengers. 

To  Pittrino  he  added,  "His  Royal  Highness  Monsieur, 
who  often  comes  into  our  city,  will  not  be  much  pleased  to 
see  his  illustrious  mother  so  slightly  clothed,  and  he  will 
send  you  to  the  oubliettes  of  the  state;  for,  remember,  the 
heart  of  that  glorious  prince  is  not  always  tender.  You 
must  efface  either  the  two  sirens  of  the  legend,  without 
which  I  forbid  the  exhibition  of  the  sign.  I  say  this  for 
your  sake,  Master  Cropole,  as  well  as  for  yours,  Signor 
Pittrino." 

What  answer  could  be  made  to  this?     It  was  necessary  to 


ffi  THE  VTCOMTE   DE   BRA4EL0KNE. 

thank  the  Schevin  for  his  kindness,  which  .Cropole  did. 
But  Pittrino  remained  downcast,  and  said  he  felt  assured  oi 
what  was  about  to  happen. 

The  edile  Avas  scarcely  gone  when  Cropole,  crossing  his 
arms,  said: 

"Well,  master,  what  is  to  ha  done?" 

"We  must  efface  the  legend,"  said  Pittrino,  in  a  melan- 
choly tone.  "I  have  some  excellent  ivory-black;  it  will  be 
done  in  a  moment,  and  we  will  replace  the  Medici  by  the 
nymphs  or  the  sirens,  whichever  you  prefer." 

"No,"  said  Cropole;  "the  will  of  my  father  must  be  car- 
ried out.     My  father  considered " 

"He  considered  the  figures  of  the  most  importance/'  said 
Pittrino. 

"He  thought  most  of  the  legend,"  said  Cropole. 

"The  proof  of  the  importance  in  which  he  held  the 
figures,"  said  Pittrino,  "is  that  he  desired  they  should  be 
likenesses,  and  they  are  so." 

"Yes;  but  if  they  had  not  been  so  who  would  have 
recognized  them  without  the  legend?  At  the  present  day 
even,  when  the  memory  of  the  Blaisois  begins  to  be  faint 
with  regard  to  these  two  celebrated  persons,  who  would 
recognize  Catherine  and  Mary  without  the  words  'To  the 
Medici?'" 

"But  the  figures?"  said  Pittrino,  in  despair;  for  he  felt 
that  young  Cropole  was  right.  "I  should  not  like  to  lose 
the  fruit  of  my  labor." 

"And  I  should  not  wish  you  to  be  thrown  into  prison, 
xnd  myself  into  the  oubliettes." 

"Let  us  efface  'Medici,'  "  said  Pittrino  supplicatingly. 

"No,"  replied  Cropole  firmly.  "I  have  got  an  idea,  a 
sublime  idea — your  picture  shall  appear,  and  my  legend 
likewise.  Does  not  'Medici'  mean  doctor,  or  physician,  in 
Italian?" 

"Yes,  in  the  plural." 

"Well,  then,  you  shall  order  another  sign-frame  of  the 
smith;  you  shall  paint  six  physicians,  and  write  underneath 
'Aux  Medici,' which  makes  a  very  pretty  play  upon  words." 

"Six  physicians!  impossible!  And  the  composition?" 
cried  Pittrino. 

"That  is  your  business, — but  so  it  shall  be — I  insist  upon 
it — it  must  be  so — my  maccaroni  is  burning." 

This  reasoning  was  peremptory — Pittrino  obeyed.  He 
composed  the  sign  of  six  physicians,  with  the  legend;  the 
ecltevin  applauded  and  authorized  it. 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNL.  33 

The  sign  produced  an  extravagant  success  in  the  city, 
which  proves  that  poetry  has  always  been  in  the  wrong  be- 
fore citizens,  as  Pittrino  said. 

Cropole,  to  make  amends  to  his  painter-in-ordinary, 
hung  up  the  nymphs  of  the  preceding  sign  in  his  bedroom, 
which  made  Mme.  Cropole  blush  every  time  she  looked  at 
it  when  she  was  undressing  at  night. 

This  is  the  way  in  which  the  pointed  gable  house  got  a 
sign ;  and  this  is  how  the  hostelry  of  the  Medici,  making  a 
fortune,  was  found  to  be  enlarged  by  a  quarter,  as  we  have 
described.  And  this  is  how  there  was  at  Blois  a  hostelry  of 
that  name,  and  had  for  painter-in-ordinary  Master  Pittrino, 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE     UNKNOWN. 

Thus  founded  and  recommended  by  this  sign,  the  hostelry 
of  Master  Cropole  held  its  way  steadily  on  toward  a  solid 
prosperity. 

It  was  not  an  immense  fortune  that  Cropole  had  in  per- 
spective; but  he  might  hope  to  double  the  thousand  louis 
d'or  left  by  his  father,  to  make  another  thousand  louis  by 
the  sale  of  his  house  and  stock,  and  at  length  to  live  happily 
like  a  retired  citizen. 

Cropole  was  anxious  for  gain,  and  was  half-crazy  with 
joy  at  the  news  of  the  arrival  of  Louis  XIV. 

Himself,  his  wife,  Pittrino,  and  two  cooks,  immediately 
laid  hands  upon  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  dovecote,  the 
poultry-yard,  and  the  rabbit-hutches;  so  that  as  many 
lamentations  and  cries  resounded  in  the  yards  of  the  hos= 
telry  of  the  Medici  as  were  formerly  heard  in  Rama. 

Cropole  had,  at  the  time,  but  one  single  traveler  in 
his  house. 

This  was  a  man  of  scarcely  thirty  years  of  ago,  hand- 
some, tall,  austere. 

He  was  dressed  in  black  velvet  with  jet  trimmings;  a 
white  collar,  as  plain  as  that  of  the  severest  Puritan,  set  off 
the  whiteness  of  his  youthful  neck;  a  small,  dark-colored 
mustache  scarcely  covered  his  curled,  disdainful  lip. 

He  spoke  to  people  looking  them  full  in  the  face,  without 
affectation,  it  is  true,  but  without  scruple;  so  that  the 
brilliancy  of  his  black  eyes  became  so  insupportable,  that 


34  THE    VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

more  than  one  look  had  sunk  beneath  his,  like  the  weaker 
sword  in  a  single  combat. 

At  this  time,  in  which  men,  all  created  equal  by  God, 
were  divided,  thanks  to  prejudices,  into  two  distinct  castes, 
the  gentleman  and  the  commoner,  as  they  are  really  divided 
into  two  races — the  black  and  the  white — at  this  time, 
we  say,  he  whose  portrait  we  have  just  sketched  could  not 
fail  of  being  taken  for  a  gentleman,  and  of  the  best  class. 
To  ascertain  this,  there  was  no  necessity  to  consult  airything 
but  his  hands,  long,  slender,  and  white,  of  which  every 
muscle,  every  vein,  became  apparent  through  the  skin  at  the 
least  movement,  and  the  phalanges  reddened  at  the  least 
crispation. 

This  gentleman,  then,  had  arrived  alone  at  Cropole's 
house.  He  had  taken,  without  hesitation,  the  principal 
apartment  which  the  hotelier  had  pointed  out  to  him 
with  a  rapacious  aim,  very  praiseworthy  some  will  say,  very 
reprehensible  will  say  others,  if  they  admit  that  Cropole  was 
a  physiognomist,  and  judged  people  at  first  sight. 

This  apartment  was  that  which  composed  the  whole  front 
of  the  ancient  triangular  house;  a  large  salon,  lighted  by 
two  windows  on  the  first  stage,  a  small  chamber  by  the  side 
of  it,  and  another  above  it. 

Now,  from  the  time  he  had  arrived,  this  gentleman  had 
scarcely  touched  any  repast  that  had  been  served  up  to  him 
in  his  chamber.  He  had  spoken  but  two  words  to  the  hose, 
to  warn  him  that  a  traveler  of  the  name  of  Parry  would 
arrive,  and  to  desire  that,  when  he  did,  he  should  be  shown 
up  to  him  immediately. 

He  afterward  preserved  so  profound  a  silence  that  Cro- 
pole was  almost  offended,  so  much  did  he  prefer  people  who 
were  good  company. 

This  gentleman  had  risen  early  the  morning  of  the  day 
on  which  this  history  begins,  and  had  placed  himself  at  the 
window  of  his  salon,  seated  upon  the  lectge,  and  leaning  upon 
the  rail  of  the  balcony,  gazing  sadly  but  persistently  on  both 
sides  of  the  street,  watching,  no  doubt,  for  the  arrival  of  the 
traveler  he  had  mentioned  to  the  host. 

In  this  way  he  had  seen  the  little  cortege  of  Monsieur 
return  from  hunting,  then  had  again  partaken  of  the  pro- 
found tranquillity  of  the  street,  absorbed  in  his  own  expecta- 
tion. All  at  once  the  movement  of  the  poor  going  to  the 
meadows,  couriers  setting  out,  washers  of  pavements,  pur- 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  35 

veyors  of  the  royal  household,  gabbling,  scampering  shop- 
boys,  chariots  in  motion,  hairdressers  on  the  run,  and 
pages  toiling  along — this  tumult  and  bustle  had  surprised 
him,  but  without  losing  any  of  that  impassible  and  supreme 
majesty  which  gives  to  the  eagle  and  the  lion  that  serene 
ami  contemptuous  glance  amid  the  hurrahs  and  shouts  of 
hunters  or  the  curious. 

Soon  the  cries  of  the  victims  slaughtered  in  the  poultry- 
yard,  th-e  hasty  steps  of  Mme.  Cropole  up  that  little  wooden 
staircase,  so  narrow  and  so  sonorous;  the  bounding  pace 
of  Pittrino,  who  only  that  morning  was  smoking  at  the  door 
with  all  the  phlegm  of  a  Dutchman;  all  this  communicated 
something  like  surprise  and  agitation  to  the  traveler. 

As  he  was  rising  to  make  inquiries,  the  door  of  his  cham- 
ber opened.  The  unknown  concluded  they  were  about  to 
introduce  the  impatiently  expected  traveler,  and  made  three 
precipitate  steps  to  meet    im. 

But,  instead  of  the  person  he  expected,  it  was  Master 
Cropole  who  appeared,  and  behind  him,  in  the  half-dark 
staircase,  the  pleasant  face  of  Mme.  Cropole,  rendered 
trivial  by  curiosity.  She  only  gave  one  furtive  glance  at 
the  handsome  gentleman,  and  disappeared. 

Cropole  advanced,  cap  in  hand,  rather  bent  than  bowing. 

A  gesture  of  the  unknown  interrogated  him,  without  a 
word  being  pronounced. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Cropole,  "I  come  to  ask  how — what 
ought  I  to  say:  your  lordship,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  or  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis?" 

"Say  monsieur,  and  speak  quickly,"  replied  the  un- 
known, with  that  haughty  accent  which  admits  of  neither 
discussion  nor  reply. 

"I  came,  then,  to  inquire  how  monsieur  had  passed  the 
night,  and  if  monsieur  intended  to  keep  this  apartment?" 

"Yes." 

"Monsieur,  something  has  happened  upon  which  we 
could  not  reckon." 

"What?" 

"His  Majesty  Louis  XIV.  will  enter  our  city  to-day,  and 
will  remain  here  one  day,  perhaps  two." 

Great  astonishment  was  painted  on  the  countenance  of 
the  unknown. 

"The  King  of  France  coming  to  Blois?" 

"He  is  on  the  road,  monsieur." 

"Then  there  is  the  stronger  reason  for  my  remaining," 
said  the  unknown. 


36  THE  VICOMTE  DE  ERAGELON-NE. 

"Very  well;  but  will  monsieur  keep  all  the  apartments?" 

"I  do  not  understand  you.  Why  should  I  require  less 
to-day  than  yesterday?" 

"Because,  monsieur,  your  lordship  will  permit  me  to  say, 
yesterday  I  did  not  think  proper,  when  you  chose  your 
lodging,  to  fix  any  price  that  might  have  made  your  lord- 
ship believe  that  I  prejudged  your  resources;  while  to- 
day " 

The  unknown  colored;  the  idea  at  once  struck  him  that 
he  was  supposed  to  be  poor,  and  was  being  insulted. 

"While  to-day,"  replied  he  coldly,  "you  do  prejudge." 

"Monsieur,  I  am  a  well-meaning  man,  thank  God!  and 
simple  hotelier  as  I  am,  there  is  in  me  the  blood  of  a  gen- 
tleman. My  father  was  a  servant  and  officer  of  the  late 
Marechal  d'Ancre.     God  rest  his  soul!" 

"I  do  not  contest  that  point  with  you;  I  only  wish  to 
know,  and  that  quickly,  to  what  your  questions  tend?" 

"You  are  too  reasonable,  monsieur,  not  to  comprehend 
that  our  city  is  small,  that  the  court  is  about  to  invade  it, 
that  the  houses  will  be  6verflowing  with  inhabitants,  and 
that  lodgings  will,  consequently,  obtain  considerable  prices." 

Again  the  unknown  colored.  "Name  your  terms,"  said 
he. 

"I  name  them  with  scruple,  monsieur,  because  I  seek  an 
honest  gain,  and  that  I  wish  to  carry  on  my  business  with- 
out being  uncivil  or  extravagant  in  my  demands.  Now,  the 
room  you  occupy  is  considerable,  and  you  are  alone." 

"That  is  my  business." 

"Oh!  certainly.     I  do  not  mean  to  turn  monsieur  out." 

The  blood  rushed  to  the  temples  of  the  unknown;  he 
darted  at  poor  Cropole,  the  descendant  of  one  of  the  officers 
of  the  Marechal  d'Ancre,  a  glance  that  would  have  crushed 
'him  down  to  beneath  that  famous  chimney-slab  if  Cropole 
had  not  been  nailed  to  the  spot  by  the  question  of  his  own 
proper  interests. 

"Do  you  desire  me  to  go?"  said  he.  "Explain  yourself 
— but  quickly." 

"Monsieur,  monsieur,  you  do  not  understand  me.  It  is 
very  delicate — I  know — that  which  I  am  doing.  I  express 
myself  badly,  or,  perhaps,  as  monsieur  is  a  foreigner,  which 
I  perceive  by  his  accent " 

In  fact,  the  unknown  spoke  with  that  slight  defect  which 
is  the  principal  character  of  English  accentuation,  even 
among  men  who  speak  the  "F^^h  language  vith  th3  sreat 
est  purity. 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  37 

"As  monsieur  is  a  foreigner,  I  say,  it  is  perhaps  he  who 
does  not  catch  my  exact  meaning.  I  wish  for  monsieur  to 
give  up  one  or  two  of  the  apartments  he  occupies,  which 
would  diminish  his  expenses  and  ease  my  conscience.  In- 
deed, it  is  hard  to  increase  unreasonably  the  price  of  the 
chambers,  when  one  has  had  the  honor  to  let  them  at  a 
reasonable  price. " 

"How  much  does  the  hire  amount  to  since  yesterday?'* 

"Monsieur,  to  one  louis,  with  refreshments  and  the 
charge  for  the  horse." 

"Very  well;  and  that  of  to-day?" 

"Ah!  there  is  the  difficulty.  This  is  the  day  of  the 
king's  arrival;  if  the  court  comes  to  sleep  here,  the  charge 
of  the  day  is  reckoned.  From,  that  it  results  that  three 
chambers,  at  two  louis  each,  make  six  louis.  Two  louis, 
monsieur,  are  not  much;  but  six  louis  make  a  great  deal." 

The  unknown,  from  red,  as  we  have  seen  him,  became 
very  pale. 

He  drew  from  his  pocket,  with  heroic  bravery,  a  purse 
embroidered  with  a  coat  of  arms,  which  he  carefully  con- 
cealed in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  This  purse  was  of  a  thin- 
ness, a  flabbiness,  a  hollowness,  which  did  not  escape  the 
eye  of  Cropole. 

The  unknown  emptied  the  purse  into  his  hand.  It  con  • 
tained  three  double  louis,  which  amounted  to  the  six  louis 
demanded  by  the  host. 

But  it  was  seven  that  Cropole  had  required. 

He  looked,  therefore,  at  the  unknown,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"And  then?" 

"There  remains  one  louis,  does  there  not,  Master 
Hotelier?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,  but " 

The  unknown  plunged  his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  his 
haut-de-chausse,  and  emptied  it.  It  contained  a  small 
pocketbook,  a  gold  key,  and  some  silver.  With  this  change 
he  made  up  a  louis. 

"Thank  you,  monsieur,"  said  Cropole.  "It  now  only 
remains  for  me  to  ask  whether  monsieur  intends  to  occupy 
his  apartments  to-morrow,  in  which  case  I  will  reserve  them 
for  him;  whereas,  if  monsieur  does  not  mean  to  do  so,  I 
will  promise  them  to  some  of  the  king's  people  who  are 
coming." 

"That  is  but  right,"  said  the  unknown,  after  a  long 
silence;  "but  as  1  have  no  more  money,  as  you  have  seen, 
and  as  I  yet  must  retain  the  apartments,  you  must  either 
sell  this  diamond  in  the  cii.Y*  or  hold  it  in  pledge." 


38  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONTSE. 

Cropole  looked  at  the  diamond  so  long  that  the  unknown 
said,  hastily: 

"I  prefer  your  selling  it,  monsieur;  for  it  is  worth  three 
hundred  pistoles.  A  Jew — are  there  any  Jews  in  Blois? — 
would  give  you  two  hundred  or  a  hundred  and  fifty  for  it — 
take  whatever  may  be  offered  for  it,  if  it  be  no  more  than 
the  price  of  your  lodging.     Be  gone!" 

"Oh!  monsieur,"  replied  Cropole,  ashamed  of  the  sudden 
inferiority  which  the  unknown  retorted  upon  him  by  this 
noble  and  disinterested  confidence,  as  well  as  by  the  un- 
alterable patience  opposed  to  so  many  suspicions  and  eva- 
sions. "Oh!  monsieur,  I  hope  peopl  are  not  so  dishonest 
at  Blois  as  you  seem  to  think;  and  that  the  diamond,  being 
worth  what  you  say " 

The  unknown  here  again  darted  at  Cropole  one  of  his 
withering  glances. 

"I  really  do  not  understand  diamonds,  monsieur,  I  assure 
you!"  cried  he. 

"But  the  jewelers  do;  ask  them,"  said  the  unknown. 
"Now  I  believe  our  accounts  are  settled,  are  they  not,  Mon- 
sieur l'Hotelier?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,  and  to  my  profound  regret;  for  I  fear  I 
have  offended  monsieur." 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  the  unknown,  with  ineffable  majesty. 

"Or  have  appeared  to  be  extortionate  with  a  noble 
traveler.     Consider,  monsieur,  the  peculiarity  of  the  case." 

"Say  no  more  about  it,  I  desire;  and  leave  me  to  myself." 

Cropole  bowed  profoundly,  and  left  the  room  with  a 
stupefied  air,  which  announced  that  he  had  a  good  heart, 
and  felt  genuine  remorse. 

The  unknown  himself  shut  the  door  after  him,  and,  when 
left  alone,  looked  mournfully  at  the  bottom  of  the  purse, 
from  which  he  had  taken  a  small  silken  bag  containing  the 
diamond,  his  last  resource. 

He  dwelt  likewise  upon  the  imptiness  of  his  pockets, 
turned  over  the  papers  in  his  pocketbook,  and  convinced 
himself  of  the  state  of  absolute  destitution  in  which  he  was 
about  to  be  plunged. 

He  raised  his  eyes  toward  heaven,  with  a  sublime  emo- 
tion of  despairing  calmness,  brushed  off  with  his  hand  some 
drops  of  sweat  which  trickled  over  his  noble  brow,  and  then 
cast  down  upon  the  earth  a  look  which  just  before  had  been 
impressed  with  almost  divine  majesty. 

That  the  storm  had  passed  far  from  him,  perhaps  lie  had 
prayed  in  the  bottom  of  his  soul. 


THE  VLCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  39 

He  drew  near  to  the  window,  resumed  his  place  in  the 
balcony,  and  remained  there,  motionless,  annihilated,  dead, 
till  the  moment  when,  the  heavens  beginning  to  darken, 
the  first  flambeaus  traversed  the  embalmed  street,  and  gave 
the  signal  for  illumination  to  all  the  windows  of  the  city. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

PARRY. 

While  the  unknown  was  viewing  these  lights  with  inter-' 
est,  and  lending  an  ear  to  the  various  noises,  Master  Cro- 
pole  entered  his  apartment,  followed  by   two  attendants, 
who  laid  the  cloth  for  his  meal. 

The  stranger  did  not  pay  them  the  least  attention;  but 
Cropole,  approaching  him  respectfully,  whispered: 

"Monsieur,  the  diamond  has  been  valued." 

"Ah!"  said  the  traveler.     "Well?" 

"Well,  monsieur,  the  jeweler  of  S.  A.  R.  gives  two  hun- 
dred and  eighty  pistoles  for  it." 

"Have  you  them?" 

"I  thought  it  best  to  take  them,  monsieur;  nevertheless, 
I  made  it  a  condition  of  the  bargain  that  if  monsieur  wished 
to  keep  his  diamond,  it  should  be  held  till  monsieur  was 
again  in  funds." 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all;  I  told  you  to  sell  it." 

"Then  I  have  obeyed,  or  nearly  so,  since,  without  having 
definitely  sold  it,  I  have  touched  the  money." 

"Pay  yourself,"  added  the  unknown. 

"I  will  do  so,  monsieur,  since  you  so  positively  require  it." 

A  sad  smile  passed  over  the  lips  of  the  gentleman. 

"Place  the  money  on  that  trunk,"  said  he,  turning  round 
and  pointing  to  the  piece  of  furniture. 

Cropole  deposited  a  tolerably  large  bag  as  directed,  after 
having  taken  from  it  the  amount  of  his  reckoning. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "I  hope  monsieur  will  not  give  me  the 
pain  of  not  taking  any  supper.  Dinner  has  already  been 
refused;  this  is  affronting  to  the  house  of  les  Medici.  Look, 
monsieur,  the  supper  is  on  the  table,  and  I  venture  to  say 
that  it  is  not  a  bad  one." 

The  unknown  asked  for  a  glass  of  wine,  broke  off  a  mor- 
sel of  bread,  and  did  not  stir  from  the  window  while  he  eat 
and  drank. 

Shortly  after  was  heard  a  loud  flourish  of  trumpets;  cries 


40  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

arose  in  the  distance,  a  confused  buzzing  filled  the  lowei 
part  of  the  city,  and  the  first  distinct  sound  that  struck  the 
ears  of  the  stranger  was  the  tramp  of  advancing  horses. 

"The  king!  the  king!"  repeated  a  noisy  and  eager  crowd. 

"The  king!"  cried  Cropole,  abandoning  his  guest  and  his 
ideas  of  delicacy  to  satisfy  his  curiosity. 

With  Cropole  were  mingled,  and  jostled,  on  the  staircase, 
Mme.  Cropole,  Pittrino,  and  the  waiters  and  scullions. 

The  cortege  advanced  slowly,  lighted  by  a  thousand  flam- 
beaus, in  the  streets  and  from  the  windows. 

After  a  company  of  musketeers,  and  a  closely  ranked 
troop  of  gentlemen,  came  the  litter  of  M.  le  Cardinal,  drawn 
like  a  carriage  by  four  black  horses.  The  pages  and  people 
of  the  cardinal  marched  behind. 

Next  came  the  carriage  of  the  queen-mother,  with  her 
maids  of  honor  at  the  doors,  her  gentlemen  on  horseback  at 
both  sides. 

The  king  then  appeared,  mounted  upon  a  splendid  horse 
of  Saxon  race,  with  a  flowing  mane.  The  young  prince  ex- 
hibited, when  bowing  to  some  windows  from  which  issued 
the  most  animated  acclamations,  a  noble  an.  handsome 
countenance,  illumined  by  the  flambeaus  of  his  pages. 

By  the  side  of  the  king,  though  a  little  in  the  rear,  the 
Priuce  de  Conde,  M.  Dangeau,  and  twenty  other  courtiers, 
followed  by  their  people  and  their  baggage,  closed  this 
veritably  triumphant  march.  The  pomp  was  of  a  military 
character. 

Some  of  the  courtiers — the  elder  ones,  for  instance — wore 
traveling-dresses;  but  all  the  rest  were  clothed  in  warlike 
panoply.  Many  wore  the  gorget  and  buff  coat  of  the  times 
of  Henry  IV.  and  Louis  XIII. 

When  the  king  passed  before  him,  the  unknown,  who 
had  leaned  forward  over  the  balcony  to  obtain  a  better  view, 
and  who  had  concealed  his  face  by  leaning  on  his  arm,  felt 
his  heart  swell  and  overflow  with  a  bitter  jealousy. 

The  noise  of  the  trumpets  excited  him — the  popular 
acclamations  deafened  him;  for  a  moment  he  allowed  his 
reason  to  be  absorbed  in  this  flood  of  lights,  tumult,  and 
brilliant  images. 

"He  is  a  king!"  murmured  he,  in  an  accent  of  despair. 

Then,  before  he  had  recovered  from  his  somber  reverie, 
all  the  noise,  all  the  splendor,  had  passed  away.  At  the 
angle  of  the  street  there  remained  nothing  beneath  the 
stranger  but  a  few  hoarse.,  discordant  voices,  shouting  at 
intervals,  "  Vive  le  Roil" 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONN'E.  41 

There  remained  likewise  the  six  candles  held  by  the  in- 
habitants of  the  hostelry  les  Medici,  that  is  to  say,  two  for 
Cropole,  two  for  Pittrino,  and  one  for  each  scullion.  Cro- 
pole  never  ceased  repeating,  "How  good-looking  the  king 
is!     How  strongly  he  resembles  his  illustrious  fi.ther!" 

"A  handsome  likeness!"  said  Pittrino. 

"And  what  a  lofty  carriage  he  has!"  added  Mme.  Cro- 
pole,  already  in  promiscuous  commentary  with  her  neigh- 
bors of  both  sexes. 

Cropole  was  feeding  their  gossip  with  his  own  personal 
remarks,  without  observing  that  an  old  man  on  foot,  but 
leading  a  small  Irish  horse  by  the  bridle,  was  endeavoring 
to  penetrate  the  crowd  of  men  and  women  which  blocked 
up  the  entrance  to  the  Medici.  But  at  that  moment  the 
voice  of  the  stranger  was  heard  from  the  window. 

"Make  way,  Monsieur  l'Hotelier,  to  the  entrance  of  your 
house!" 

Cropole  turned  round,  and,  on  seeing  the  old  man, 
cleared  a  passage  for  him. 

The  window  was  instantly  closed. 

Pittrino  pointed  out  the  way  to  the  newly  arrived  guest, 
who  entered  without  uttering  a  word. 

The  stranger  waited  for  him  on  the  landing;  he  opened 
his  arms  to  the  old  man,  and  led  him  to  a  seat. 

"Oh,  no,  no,  my  lord!"  said  he.  "Sit  down  in  your 
presence? — never!" 

"Parry,"  cried  the  gentleman,  "I  beg  you  will;  you  come 
from  England — you  come  so  far.  Ah!  it  is  not  for  your 
age  to  undergo  the  fatigues  my  service  requires.  Rest 
yourself." 

"I  have  my  reply  to  give  your  lordship,  in  the  first  place." 

"Parry,  I  conjure  you  to  tell  me  nothing;  for  if  your 
news  had  been  good  you  would  not  have  begun  in  such  a 
manner;  you  go  about,  which  proves  that  the  news  is  bad." 
!  "My  lord,"  said  the  old  man,  "do  not  hasten  to  alarm 
yourself;  all  is  not  lost,  I  hope.  You  must  employ  energy, 
but  more  particularly  resignation." 

"Parry,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  have  reached  this  place 
through  a  thousand  snares,  and  after  a  thousand  difficulties; 
can  you  doubt  my  energy?  I  have  meditated  this  journey 
ten  years,  in  spite  of  all  counsels  and  all  obstacles — have 
you  faith  in  my  perseverance?  I  have  this  evening  sold 
the  last  of  my  father's  diamonds;  for  I  had  nothing  where- 
witii  to  pay  for  my  lodging,  and  my  host  was  about  to  turn 
me  out." 


42  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

Parry  made  a  gesture  of  indignation,  to  which  the  young 
man  replied  by  a  pressure  of  the  hand  and  a  smile. 

"I  have  still  two  hundred  and  seventy -four  pistoles  left, 
and  I  feel  myself  rich.  I  do  not  despair,  Parry;  have  you 
faith  in  my  resignation?" 

The  old  man  raised  his  trembling  hands  toward  heaven. 

"Let  me  know,"  said  the  stranger — "disguiss  nothing 
from  me — what  has  happened?" 

"My  recital  will  be  short,  my  lord;  but  in  the  name  of 
heaven  do  not  tremble  so!" 

"It  is  impatience,  Parry.  Come,  what  did  the  general 
say  to  you?" 

"At  first  the  general  would  not  receive  me." 

"He  took  you  for  a  spy?" 

"Yes,  my  lord;  but  I  wrote  him  a  letter." 

"Well?" 

"He  received  it,  and  read  it,  my  lord." 

"Did  that  letter  thoroughly  explain  my  position  and  my 
views?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Parry,  with  a  sad  smile;  "it  painted  your 
thoughts  faithfully." 

"Well— then,  Parry?" 

"Then  the  general  sent  me  back  the  letter  by  an  aid-de- 
camp, informing  me  that  if  I  were  found  the  next  day 
within  the  circumspection  of  his  command  he  would  have 
me  arrested." 

"Arrested!"  murmured  the  young  man.  "What!  arrest 
you,  my  most  faithful  servant?" 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"And  notwithstanding  you  had  signed  the  name  Parry!" 

"To  all  my  letters,  my  lord;  and  the  aid-de-camp  had 
known  me  at  St.  James',  and  at  Whitehall,  too,"  added  the 
old  man,  with  a  sigh. 

The  young  man  leaned  forward,  thoughtful  and  sad. 

"Ay,  that's  what  he  did  before  his  people,"  said  he,  en- 
deavoring to  cheat  himself  with  hopes.  "But,  privately — ■ 
between  you  and  him — what  did  he  do?    Answer!" 

"Alas!  my  lord,  he  sent  to  me  four  cavaliers,  who  gave 
me  the  horse  with  which  you  just  now  saw  me  come  back. 
These  cavaliers  conducted  me,  in  great  haste,  to  the  little 
port  of  Tenby,  threw  me,  rather  than  embarked  me,  into  a 
fishing-boat  about  to  sail  for  Brittany,  and  here  I  am." 

"Oh!"  sighed  the  young  man,  clasping  his  neck  convul- 
sively with  his  hand,  and  with  a  sob.  "Parry,  is  that  all? 
—is  that  all?" 


THE   VICOMTE   DE    BRAGELONNE,  43 

"Yes,  my  lord;  that  is  all." 

After  this  brief  reply  ensued  a  long  interval  of  silence, 
broken  only  by  the  convulsive  beating  of  the  heel  of  the 
young  man  on  the  floor. 

The  old  man  endeavored  to  change  the  conversation;  it 
was  leading  to  thoughts  much  too  sinister. 

"My  lord,"  said  he,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  all  tne 
noise  which  preceded  me?  What  are  these  people  crying 
'  Vive  le  Roi!'  for?  What  king  do  they  mean,  and  what  are 
all  these  lights  for?" 

"Ah !  Parry,"  replied  the  young  man  ironically,  "don't 
you  know  that  the  King  of  France  is  visiting  his  good  city 
of  Blois  ?  All  those  trumpets  are  his,  all  those  gilded  hous- 
ings are  his,  all  those  gentlemen  wear  swords  that  are  his. 
His  mother  precedes  him  in  a  carriage  magnificently  in- 
crusted  with  silver  and  gold.  Happy  mother  !  His  minister 
heaps  up  millions,  and  conducts  him  to  a  rich  bride.  Then 
all  these  people  rejoice ;  they  love  their  king,  they  hail  him 
with  their  acclamations,  and  they  cry,    Vive  U  Roi!' 

"Well,  well,  my  lord,"  said  Parry,  more  uneasy  at  the 
turn  the  conversation  had  taken  than  at  the  other. 

"You  know,"  resumed  the  unknown,  "that  my  mother 
and  my  sister,  while  all  this  is  going  on  in  honor  of  the 
King  of  France,  have  neither  money  nor  bread ;  you  know 
that  I  myself  shall  be  poor  and  degraded  within  a  fortnight, 
when  all  Europe  will  become  acquainted  with  what  you 
have  told  me.     Parry,  are  there  not  examples  in  which  a 

man  of  my  condition  should  himself " 

"My  lord,  in  the  name  of  Heaven " 

"You  are  right,Parry ;  Iamacoward,  and  if  I  do  nothing 
for  myself,  what  will  God  do  ?  No,  no ;  I  have  two  arms, 
Parry,  and  I  have  a  sword."  And  he  struck  his  arm 
violently  with  his  hand,  and  took  down  his  sword. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do,  my  lord  ?" 
"What  am  I  going  to  do.  Parry  ?  What  every  one  in  my 
family  does.  My  mother  lives  on  public  charity,  my  sister 
begs  for  my  mother ;  I  have,  somewhere  or  other,  brothers 
who  equally  beg  for  themselves;  and  I,  the  eldest,  will  go 
and  do  as  all  the  rest  do — I  will  go  and  ask  charity." 

And  at  these  words,  which  he  finished  sharply  with  a 
nervous  and  terrible  laugh,  the  young  man  girded  on  his 
sword,  took  his  hat  from  the  trunk,  fastened  to  his  shoulder 
a  black  cloak,  which  he  had  worn  during  all  his  journey 


44  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BKAGELONNE^ 

and  pressing  the  two  hands  <  f  the  old  man,  who  watched 
his  proceedings  with  a  look  of  anxiety: 

"My  good  Parry,"  said  he,  '"order  a  fire,  drink,  eat, 
sleep,  and  be  happy;  let  us  both  be  happy,  my  faithful 
friend,  my  only  friend.     We  are  rich,  as  rich  as  kings!'' 

He  struck  the  bag  of  pistoles  with  his  clinched  hands  as 
he  spoke,  and  it  fell  heavily  to  the  ground.  He  resumed 
that  dismal  laugh  that  had  so  alarmed  Parry;  and  while  the 
whole  household  was  screaming,  singing,  and  preparing  to 
install  the  travelers  who  had  been  preceded  by  their  lackeys, 
he  glided  out  by  the  principal  entrance  iuto  the  street, 
where  the  old  man,  who  had  gone  to  the  window,  lost  sight 
of  him  in  a  moment. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WHAT  HIS  MAJESTY   KING   LOUIS   XIV.    WAS  AT  THE  AGE  OF 
TWENTY-TWO. 

It  has  been  seen,  by  the  account  we  have  endeavored  to 
give  of  it,  that  the  entree  of  King  Louis  XIV.  into  the  city 
of  Blois  had  been  noisy  and  brilliant;  his  young  majesty 
had  therefore  appeared  perfectly  satisfied  with  it. 

On  arriving  beneath  the  porch  of  the  Castle  of  the  States, 
the  king  met,  surrounded  by  his  guards  and  gentlemen, 
with  S.  A.  R.  the  duke,  Gaston  of  Orleans,  whose  physiog- 
nomy, naturally  rather  majestic,  had  borrowed  on  this  solemn 
occasion  a  fresh  luster  and  a  fresh  dignity.  On  her  part, 
madame,  dressed  in  her  robes  of  ceremony,  awaited,  in  the 
interior  balcony,  the  entrance  of  her  nephew.  All  the  win- 
dows of  the  old  castle,  so  deserted  and  dismal  on  ordinary 
days,  were  resplendent  with  ladies  and  lights. 

It  was  then  to  the  sound  of  drums,  trumpets,  and  vivats 
that  the  young  king  crossed  the  threshold  of  that  castle  in 
which,  seventy-two  years  before,  Henry  III.  had  called  in 
the  aid  of  assassination  and  treachery  to  keep  upon  his  head 
and  in  his  house  a  crown  which  was  already  slipping  from 
his  brow,  to  fall  into  another  family. 

All  eyes,  after  having  admired  the  young  king,  so  hand- 
some and  so  agreeable,  sought  for  that  other  king  of 
France,  much  otherwise  king  than  the  former,  and  so  old,  so 
pale,  so  bent,  that  people  called  him  the  Cardinal  Mazarin. 

Louis  was  at  this  time  endowed  with  all  the  natural  gifts 
which  make  the  perfect  gentleman;  his  eye  was  brilliant, 


THE  VICOMTE   BE   BRArTELONNE.  45 

mild,  and  of  a  clear  azure  blue.  But  the  most  skillful 
physiognomists,  those  divers  into  the  soul,  on  fixing  their 
Looks  upon  it,  if  it  had  been  possible  for  a  subject  to  sustain 
bhe  glance  of  the  king — the  most  skillful  physiognomists, 
we  say,  would  never  have  been  able  to  fathom  the  depths 
ipf  that  abyss  of  mildness.  It  was  with  the  eyes  of  the  king 
las  with  the  immense  depth  of  the  azure  heavens,  or  with 
those  more  terrific,  and  almost  as  sublime,  which  the  Medi- 
terranean reveals  under  the  keels  of  its  ships  in  a  clear  sum- 
mer day,  a  gigantic  mirror  in  which  heaven  delights  to 
reflect  sometimes  its  stars,  sometimes  its  storms. 

The  king  was  short  of  stature — he  was  scarcely  five  feet 
two  inches;  but  his  youth  made  up  for  this  defect,  set  off 
likewise  by  great  nobleness  in  all  his  movements,  and  by 
considerable  address  in  all  bodily  exercises. 

Certes,  he  was  already  quite  a  king,  and  it  was  a  great 
thing  to  be  a  king  in  that  period  of  traditional  devotedness 
and  respect;  but  as,  up  to  that  time,  he  had  been  but  sel- 
dom and  always  poorly  shown  to  the  people,  as  they  to 
whom  he  was  shown  saw  him  by  the  side  of  his  mother,  a 
tall  woman,  and  M.  le  Cardinal,  a  man  of  commanding 
^presence,  many  found  him  so  little  of  a  king  as  to  say: 

"Why,  the  king  is  not  so  tall  as  Monsieur  le  Cardinal!" 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  these  physical  observations, 
which  were  principally  made  in  the  capital,  the  young  king 
was  welcomed  as  a  god  by  the  inhabitants  of  Blois  and 
almost  like  a  king  by  his  uncle  and  aunt,  Monsieur  and 
madame,  the  inhabitants  of  the  castle. 

It  must,  however,  be  allowed  that  when  he  saw,  in  the 
,hall  of  reception,  chairs  of  equal  height  placed  for  himself, 
his  mother,  the  cardinal,  and  his  uncle  and  aunt,  a  disposi- 
tion artfully  concealed  by  the  semicircular  form  of  the 
assembly,  Louis  XIV.  became  red  with  anger,  and  looked 
laround  him  to  ascertain  by  the  countenances  of  those  that 
were  present  if  this  humiliation  had  been  prepared  for  him. 
[But  as  he  saw  nothing  upon  the  impassible  visage  of  ths 
cardinal,  nothing  on  that  of  his  mother,  nothing  on  those 
of  the  assembly,  he  resigned  himself,  and  sat  down,  taking 
care  to  be  seated  before  anybody  else. 

The  gentlemen  and  ladies  were  presented  to  their  majes- 
ties and  M.  le  Cardinal. 

The  king  remarked  that  his  mother  and  he  scarcely  knew 
the  names  of  any  of  the  persons  who  were  presented  to 
them;  while  the  cardinal,  on  the  contrary,  never  failed, 
with  an  admirable  memory  and  presence  of  mind,  to  talk  to 


46  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

every  one  about  his  estates,  his  ancestors,  or  his  children, 
some  of  whom  he  named,  which  enchanted  those  worthy 
country  gentlemen,  and  confirmed  them  in  the  idea  that  he 
alone  is  truly  king  who  knows  his  subjects,  from  the  same 
reason  that  the-  sun  has  no  rival,  because  the  sun  alone 
warms'  and  lightens. 

The  study  of  the  young  king,  which  had  begun  a  long 
time  before,  without  anybody  suspecting  it,  was  continued 
then,  and  he  looked  around  him  attentively,  to  endeavor  to 
make  out  something  in  the  physiognomies  which  had  at  first 
appeared  the  most  insignificant  and  trivial. 

A  collation  was  served.  The  king,  without  daring  to  call 
upon  the  hospitality  of  his  uncle,  had  waited  for  it  im- 
patiently. This  time,  therefore,  he  had  all  the  honors  duie, 
if  not  to  his  rank,  at  least  to  his  appetite. 

As  to  the  cardinal,  he  contented  himself  with  touching 
with  his  withered  lips  a  bouillon  served  in  a  gold  cup.  The 
all-powerful  minister,  who  had  taken  her  regency  from  the 
queen,  and  his  royalty  from  the  king,  had  not  been  able  to 
take  a  good  stomach  from  nature. 

Anne  of  Austria,  already  suffering  from  the  cancer  which 
six  or  eight  years  after  caused  her  death,  eat  very  little 
more  than  the  cardinal. 

For  Monsieur,  already  puffed  up  with  the  great  event 
which  had  taken  place  in  his  provincial  life,  eat  nothing 
whatever. 

Madame  alone,  like  a  true  Lorrainer,  kept  pace  with  his 
majesty;  so  that  Louis  XIV.,  who,  without  this  partner, 
might  have  eaten  nearly  alone,  was  at  first  much  pleased 
with  his  aunt,  and  afterward  with  M.  de  St.  Remy,  her 
■maitre  cVhotel,  who  had  really  distinguished  himself. 

The  collation  over,  at  a  sign  of  approbation  from  M.  d<* 
Mazarin,  the  king  arose,  and,  at  the  invitation  of  his  aunt, 
walked  about  among  the  ranks  of  the  assembly. 

The  ladies  then  observed — there  are  certain  things  for 
which  women  are  as  good  observers  at  Blois  as  at  Paris — 
the  ladies  then  observed  that  Louis  XIV.  had  a  prompt  and 
bold  look,  which  promised  a  distinguished  appreciator  of 
beauty.  The  men,  on  their  part,  observed  that  the  prince 
was  proud  and  haughty,  that  he  loved  to  look  down  those 
who  fixed  their  eyes  upon  him  too  long  or  too  earnestly, 
which  gave  presage  of  a  master. 

Louis  XIV.  had  accomplished  about  a  third  of  his  review, 
when  his  ears  were  struck  with  a  word  which  his  eminence 
pronounced  while  conversing  with  Monsieur. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOtfNE.  47 

This  word  was  the  name  of  a  woman. 

Scarcely  had  Louis  XIV.  heard  this  word  than  he  heard,, 
or  rather,  listened  to,  nothing  else;  and  neglecting  the 
arc  of  the  circle  which  awaited  his  visit,  his  object  seemed 
to  be  to  come  as  quickly  as  possible  to  the  extremity  of  the 
curve. 

Monsieur,  like  a  good  courtier,  was  inquiring  of  M.  le 
Cardinal  after  the  health  of  his  nieces;  he  regretted,  he 
said,  not  having  the  pleasnre  of  receiving  them  at  the  same 
time  with  their  uncle;  they  must  certainly  have  grown  in 
stature,  beauty,  and  grace,  as  they  had  promised  to  do  the 
last  time  Monsieur  had  seen  them. 

What  had  first  struck  the  king  was  a  certain  contrast  in 
the  voices  of  the  two  interlocutors.  The  voice  of  Monsieur 
was  calm  and  natural  while  he  spoke  thus;  while  that  of  M. 
de  Mazarin  jumped  by  a  note  and  a  half  to  reply  above  the 
diapason  of  his  usual  voice.  It  might  have  been  said  that 
he  wished  that  voice  to  strike,  at  the  end  of  the  salon,  any 
ear  that  was  too  distant. 

"Monseigneur,"  replied  he,  "Mesdemoiselles  de  Mazarin 
have  still  to  finish  their  education;  they  have  duties  to  ful- 
fill, and  a  position  to  make.  An  abode  in  a  young  and 
brilliant  court  would  dissipate  them  a  little." 

Louis,  at  this  last  sentence,  smiled  sadly.  The  court  was 
young,  it  was  true,  but  the  avaricg  of  the  cardinal  had  taken 
good  care  that  it  should  not  be  brilliant. 

"You  have,  nevertheless,  no  intention,"  replied  Mon- 
sieur, "to  cloister  them  or  make  them  bourgeoises  ?" 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  the  cardinal,  forcing  his  Italian 
pronunciation  is  such  a  manner  that,  from  soft  and  velvety 
as  it  was,  it  became  sharp  and  vibrating;  "not  at  all;  I 
have  a  full  and  fixed  intention  to  marry  them,  and  that  as 
well  as  I  shall  be  able." 

"Parties  will  not  be  wanting,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal," 
replied  Monsieur,  with  a  bonhomie  worthy  of  one  tradesman 
congratulating  another. 

"I  hope  not,  monseigneur,  and  with  reason,  as  God  has 
been  pleased  to  give  them  grace,  intelligence,  and  beauty." 

During  this  conversation,  Louis  XIV.,  conducted  by  ma- 
dame,  accomplished,  as  Ave  have  described,  the  circle  of 
presentations. 

"Mademoiselle  Auricule,"  said  the  princess,  presenting 
to  his  majesty  a  fat,  fair  girl  of  twenty-two,  who  at  a  village 
fete  might  have  been  taken  for  a  peasant  in  Sunday  finery 
*  "the  daughter  of  my  music-mistress." 


48  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAftELOtfNE. 

The  king  smiled.  Madame  had  never  been  able  to 
extract  four  correct  notes  from  either  viol  or  harpsicjhord. 

"Mademoiselle  Aure  de  Montalais,"  continued  madame; 
"a  young  lady  of  rank,  and  my  good  attendant." 

This  time  it  was  not  the  king  that  smiled;  it  was  the 
young  lady  presented,  because,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
she  heard  given  to  her  by  madame,  who  generally  showed 
no  tendency  to  spoil  her,  such  an  honorable  qualification. 

Our  old  acquaintance  Montalais,  therefore,  made  his 
majesty  a  profound  courtesy,  the  more  respectful  from  the 
necessity  she  was  under  of  concealing  certain  contractions 
«f  her  laughing  lips,  which  the  king  might  not  have  at- 
tributed to  their  real  cause. 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  the  king  caught  the  word 
which  startled  him. 

"And  the  name  of  the  third?"  asked  Monsieur. 

"Mary,  monseigneur,"  replied  the  cardinal. 

There  was,  doubtless,  some  magical  influence  in  that 
word,  for,  as  we  have  said,  the  king  started  at  hearing  it, 
and  drew  madame  toward  the  middle  of  the  circle,  as  if  he 
wished  to  put  some  confidential  question  to  her,  but,  in 
reality,  for  the  sake  of  getting  nearer  to  the  cardinal. 

"Madame  my  aunt,"  said  he,  laughing,  and  in  a  sup- 
pressed voice,  "my  geography-master  did  not  teach  me 
that  Blois  was  at  such  an  immense  distance  from  Paris." 

"What  do  you  mean,  nephew?"  asked  madame. 

"Why,  because  it  would  appear  that  it  requires  several 
years  as  regards  fashion,  to  travel  the  distance!  Look 
at  those  young  ladies." 

"Well;  I  know  them  all." 

"Some  of  them  are  pretty." 

"Don't  say  that  too  loud,  monsieur  my  nephew;  you  will 
drive  them  wild." 

"Stop  a  bit,  stop  a  bit,  dear  aunt,"  said  the  king,  smil- 
ing, "for  the  second  part  of  my  sentence  will  serve  as  ai 
corrective  to  the  first.  Well,  my  dear  aunt,  some  of  them 
appear  old,  and  others  ugly,  thanks  to  their  ten-year-old 
fashions." 

"But,  sire,  Blois  is  only  five  days'  journey  from  Paris." 

"Yes,  that  is  it,"  said  the  king;  "two  years  behind  for 
each  day." 

"Indeed!  do  you  really  think  so?  Well,  that  is  strange! 
It  never  struck  me." 

"Now,  look,  aunt,"  said  Louis  XIV.,  drawing  still  nearer 
to  Mazarin,  under  the  pretext  of  gaining  a  better  point  of 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNB.  49 

view,  "look  at  that  simple  white  dress  by  the  side  of  those 
antiquated  specimens  of  finery,  and  those  pretentious 
coiffures.  She  is  probably  one  of  my  mother's  maids  of 
honor,  though  I  aon't  know  her." 

"Ah!  ah!  my  dear  nephew!"'  replied  madame,  laughing, 
":ermit  me  to  tell  you  that  your  divinatory  science  is  at 
,:ault  for  once.  The  young  lady  you  honor  with  your  praise 
is  not  a  Parisian,  but  a  Biaisoise." 

"Oh,  aunt!"  replied  the  king,  with  a  look  of  doubt. 

"Come  here,  Louise,"  said  madame. 

And  the  fair  girl,  already  known  to  you  under  that  name, 
approached  them,  timid,  blushing,  and  almost  bent  beneath 
the  royal  glance. 

"Mademoiselle  Louise  Franchise  de  la  Beaume  Leblanc, 
+he  daughter  of  the  Marquis  de  la  Valliere,"  said  madame 
ceremoniously. 

The  young  girl  bowed  with  so  much  grace,  mingled  with 
the  profound  timidity  inspired  by  the  presence  of  the  king, 
that  the  latter  lost,  while  looking  at  her,  a  few  words  of  the 
conversation  of  Monsieur  and  the  cardinal. 

"Daughter-in-law,"  continued  madame,  "of  Monsieur  de 
St.  Eemy,  my  maitre  d'hotel,  who  presided  over  the  con- 
fection of  that  excellent  daube  truffee  which  your  majesty 
seemed  so  much  to  appreciate." 

No  grace,  no  youth,  no  beauty,  could  stand  out  against 
such  a  presentation.  The  king  smiled.  Whether  the 
words  of  madame  were  a  pleasantry,  or  uttered  in  all  inno- 
cence, they  proved  the  pitiless  immola  ion  of  everything  that 
Louis  had  found  charming  or  poetic  in  the  young  girl. 
Mile,  de  la  Valliere,  for  madame,  and  b;  rebound,  for  the 
king,  was,  for  a  moment,  no  more  than  the  daughter  of  a 
man  of  a  superior  talent  over  dindes  truffees. 

But  princes  are  thus  constituted.  The  gods,  too,  were 
just  like  this  in  Olympus.  Diana  and  Venus,  no  doubt, 
abused  the  beautiful  Alcmena  and  poor  Io  when  they  de- 
scended, for  distraction's  sake,  to  speak,  amid  nectar  and 
ambrosia,  of  mortal  beauties  at  the  table  of  Jupiter. 

Fortunately,  Louise  was  so  bent  in  her  reverential  salute 
that  she  did  not  catch  either  madame's  words  or  the  king's 
smile.  In  fact,  if  the  poor  child,  who  had  so  much  good 
taste  as  alone  to  have  chosen  to  dress  herself  in  white  amid 
all  her  companions — if  that  dove's  heart,  so  easily  accessible 
to  painful  emotions,  had  been  touched  by  the  cruel  words 
of  madame,  or  the  egotistical  cold  smile  of  the  king,  it 
would  have  annihilated  her. 


50  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.      "• 

And  Montalais  herself,  the  girl  of  ingenious  ideas,  would 
not  have  attempted  to  recall  her  to  life;  for  ridicule  kills 
beauty  even. 

But  fortunately,  as  we  have  said,  Louise,  whose  ears  were 
buzzing,  and  her  eyes  veiled  by  timidity — Louise  saw  noth- 
ing and  heard  nothing;  and  the  king,  who  had  still  his 
attention  directed  to  the  conversation  of  the  cardinal  and 
his  uncle,  hastened  to  return  to  them. 

He  came  up  just  at  the  moment  Mazarin  terminated  b\ 
raying:  "Mary,  as  well  as  her  sisters,  has  just  set  off  for 
Brouage.  I  made  them  follow  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
Loire  to  that  along  which  we  have  traveled;  and  if  I  calcu- 
late their  progress  correctly,  according  to  the  orders  I  have 
given,  they  will  to-morrow  be  opposite  Blois." 

These  words  were  pronounced  with  that  tact — that 
measure,  that  distinctness  of  tone,  of  intention,  and  reach 
— which  made  Del  Signor  Giulio  Mazarini  the  first  comedian 
in  the  world. 

It  resulted  that  they  went  straight  to  the  heart  of  Louis 
XIV.,  and  that  the  cardinal,  on  turning  round  at  the  simple 
noise  of  the  approaching  footsteps  of  his  majesty,  saw  the 
immediate  effect  of  them  upon  the  countenance  of  his 
pupil,  an  effect  betrayed  to  the  keen  eyes  of  his  eminence 
by  a  slight  increase  of  color.  But  what  was  the  ventilating 
of  such  a  secret  to  him  whose  craft  had  for  twenty  years 
deceived  all  the  diplomatists  of  Europe? 

From  the  moment  the  young  king  heard  these  last  words, 
he  appeared  as  if  he  had  received  a  poisoned  arrow  in  his 
heart.  He  could  not  remain  quiet  in  a  place,  but  cast 
around  an  uncertain,  dead,  and  aimless  look  over  the  as- 
sembly. He  with  his  eyes  interrogated  his  mother  more 
than  twenty  times;  but  she,  given  up  to  the  pleasure  of 
conversing  with  her  sister-in-law,  and  likewise  constrained 
by  the  glance  of  Mazarin,  did  not  appear  to  comprehend 
any  of  the  supplications  conveyed  by  the  looks  of  her  son. 

From  this  moment,  music,  lights,  flowers,  beauties,  all 
became  odious  and  insipid  to  Louis  XIV.  After  he  had  a 
hundred  times  bitten  his  lips,  stretched  his  legs  and  his 
arms  like  a  well-brought-up  child,  who,  without  daring  to 
gape,  exhausts  all  the  modes  of  evincing  his  weariness — ■ 
after  having  uselessly  again  implored  his  mother  and  the 
minister,  he  turned  a  despairing  look  toward  the  door,  that 
is  to  say,  toward  liberty. 

At  this  door,  in  the  embrasure  of  which  he  was  leaning, 
he  saw,  standing  out  strongly,  a  figure  with  a  brown  and 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAOELONNE.  51 

lefty  countenance,  an  aquiline  nose,  a  stern  but  brilliant 
eye,  gray  and  long  hair,  a  black  mustache,  the  true  type  of 
military  beauty,  whose  gorget,  more  sparkling  than  a  mir- 
ror, broke  all  the  reflected  lights  which  concentrated  upon 
it,  and  sent  them  back  as  lightning.  This  officer  wore  his 
gray  hat  with  its  long  red  plumes  upon  his  head,  a  proof 
that  he  was  called  there  by  his  duty,  and  not  by  his 
pleasure.  If  he  had  been  brought  thither  by  his  pleasure — 
if  he  had  been  a  courtier  instead  of  a  soldier,  as  pleasure 
must  always  be  paid  for  at  the  same  price — he  would  have 
held  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

That  which  proved  still  better  that  this  officer  was  upon 
duty,  and  was  accomplishing  a  task  to  which  he  was  accus- 
:  tomed,  was,  that  he  watched,  with  folded  arms,  remarkable 
indifference,  and  supreme  apathy,  the  joys  and  ennuis  of 
this  fete.  Above  all,  he  appeared  like  a  philosopher,  and 
all  old  soldiers  are  philosopher? — he  appeared  above  all  to 
comprehend  the  ennuis  infinitely  better  than  the  joys;  but 
in  the  one  he  took  his  part,  knowing  very  well  how  to  do 
without  the  other.  Now  he  was  leaning  against  the  carved 
door-frame,  when  the  melancholy,  weary  eyes  of  the  king, 
by  chance,  met  his. 

It  was  not  the  first  time,  as  it  appeared,  that  the  eyes  of 
the  officer  had  met  those  eyes,  and  he  was  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  the  expression  of  them;  for,  as  soon  as  he 
had  cast  his  own  look  upon  the  countenance  of  Louis  XI V., 
and  had  read  by  it  what  was  passing  in  his  heart — that  is 
to  say,  all  the  ennui  that  oppressed  him — all  the  timid  de- 
sire to  go  out  which  agitated  him — he  perceived  he  must 
render  the  king  a  service  without  his  commanding  it — 
almost  in  spite  of  himself.  Boldly,  therefore,  as  if  he  had 
given  the  word  of  command  to  cavalry  in  battle,  "On  the 
king's  service !"  cried  he,  in  a  clear,  sonorous  voice. 

At  these  words,  which  produced  the  effect  of  a  peal  of 
thunder,  prevailing  over  the  orchestra,  the  singing,  and  the 
buzz  of  the  promenaders,  the  cardinal  and  the  queen- 
mother  looked  at  each  other  with  surprise. 

Louis  XIV.,  pale,  but  resolved,  supported  as  he  was  by 
that  intuition  of  his  own  thought  which  he  had  found  in 
the  mind  of  the  officer  of  musketeers,  and  which  he  had 
just  manifested  by  the  order  given,  arose  from  his  chair. 
"Are  you  going,  my  son?"  said  the  queen,  while  Mazarin 
satisfied  himself  with  interrogating  by  a  look  which  might 
-iave  appeared  mild  if  it  lied  not  been_so  piercing. 


02  THE   VICOMTE   I>E    BRAGELONNE. 

"Yes,  madame,"  replied  the  king;  "I  am  fatigued,  an4 
besides,  wish  to  write  this  evening." 

A  smile  stole  over  the  lips  of  the  minister,  who  appeared, 
by  a  bend  of  the  head,  to  give  the  king  permission. 

Monsieur  and  madame  hastened  to  give  orders  to  the 
officers  who  presented  themselves. 

The  king  bowed,  crossed  the  hall,  and  gained  the  door, 
where  a  hedge  of  twenty  musketeers  awaited  him.  At  the 
extremity  of  this  hedge  stood  the  officer,  impassable,  with 
his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand.  The  king  passed,  and  all  the 
crowd  stood  on  tiptoe,  to  have  one  more  look  at  him. 

Ten  musketeers,  opening  the  crowd  of  the  antechambers 
and  the  steps,  made  way  for  his  majesty.  The  other  ter 
surrounded  the  king  and  monsieur,  who  had  insisted  upon 
accompanying  his  majesty.  The  domestics  walked  behind. 
This  little  cortege  escorted  the  king  to  the  chamber  destined 
for  him.  The  apartment  was  the  same  that  had  been  occu- 
pied by  Henry  III.  during  his  sojourn  in  the  states. 

Monsieur  had  given  his  orders.  The  musketeers,  led  by 
their  officer,  took  possession  of  the  little  passage  by  which 
one  wing  of  the  castle  communicates  with  the  other.  This 
passage  was  commenced  by  a  small  square  antechamber, 
dark  even  in  the  finest  days.     Monsieur  stopped  Louis  XIV. 

"You  are  passing  now,  sire,"  said  he,  "the  very  spot 
where  the  due  De  Guise  received  the  first  stab  of  the 
poniard." 

The  king  was  ignorant  of  all  historical  matters;  he  had 
heard  of  the  fact,  but  he  knew  nothing  of  the  localities  or 
the  details. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  with  a  shudder. 

And  he  stopped.  The  rest,  both  behind  him  and  before 
him,  stopped  likewise. 

"The  due,  sire,"  continued  Gaston,  "was  nearly  where  I 
stand,-  he  was  walking  in  the  same  direction  as  your  majesty; 
Monsieur  de  Lorgnes  was  exactly  where  your  lieutenant  of 
musketeers  is;  Monsieur  de  St.  Maline  and  his  majesty's 
ordinaries  were  behind  him  and  around  him.  It  was  here 
that  he  was  struck." 

The  king  turned  toward  his  officer,  and  saw  something 
like  a  cloud  pass  over  his  martial  and  daring  countenance. 

"Yes,  from  behind!"  murmured  the  lieutenant,  with  a 
gesture  of  supreme  disdain.  And  he  endeavored  to  resume 
the  march,  as  if  ill  at  ea?e  at  being  between  walls  formerly 
defiled  by  treachery. 

But  the  king,  who  avz/pared  to  wish  to  be  informed,  was 
ct»*posed  to  gije  anoth<»  )o«k  at„this  dismal  spot. 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  53 

Gaston  perceived  his  nephew's  desire. 

"Look,  sire,"  said  he,  taking  a  flambeau  from  the  hands 
of  M.  de  St.  Remy,  "this  is  where  he  fell.  There  was  a 
bed  there,  the  curtains  of  which  he  tore  with  catching  at 
them/' 

"Why  does  the  floor  seem  hollowed  out  at  this  spot?" 
asked  Louis. 

"Because  it  was  here  the  blood  flowed,'  replied  Gaston; 
"the  blood  penetrated  deeply  into  the  oak,  and  it  was  only 
by  cutting  it  out  that  they  succeeded  in  making  it  disap- 
pear. And  even  then,"  added  Gaston,  pointing  the  flam- 
beau to  the  spot,  "even  then  this  red  stain  resisted  all  the 
attempts  made  to  destroy  it." 

Louis  XIV.  raised  his  head.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking  of 
that  bloody  trace  that  had  once  been  shown  him  at  the 
Louvre,  and  which,  as  a  pendant  to  that  of  Blois,  had  been 
made  there  one  day  by  the  king,  his  father,  with  the  blood 
of  Concini.     "Let  us  go  on,"  said  he. 

The  inarch  was  resumed  promptly;  for  emotion,  no 
doubt,  had  given  to  the  voice  of  the  young  prince  a  tone  of 
command  which  was  not  customary  with  him.  When 
arrived  at  the  apartment  destined  for  the  king,  which  com- 
municated not  only  with  the  little  passage  we  have  passed 
through,  bat  further  with  the  great  staircase  leading  to  the 
court:  "Will  your  majesty,"  said  Gaston,  "condescend  to  oc- 
cupy this  apartment,  all  unworthy  as  it  is  to  receive  you?" 

"Uncle,"  replied  the  young  king,  "I  render  you  my 
thanks  for  your  cordial  hospitality." 

Gaston  bowed  to  his  nephew,  who  embraced  him,  and 
then  went  out. 

Of  the  twenty  musketeers  who  had  accompanied  the  king, 
ten  reconducted  Monsieur  to  the  reception-rooms,  which 
were  not  yet  empty,  notwithstanding  the  king  had  retired. 

The  ten  others  were  posted  by  their  officer,  who  himself 
explored,  in  five  minutes,  all  the  localities,  with  that  cold 
and  certain  glance  which  not  even  habit  gives  unless  that 
glance  belongs  to  genius. 

Then,  when  all  were  placed,  he  chose  as  his  headquarters 
the  antechamber,  in  which  he  found  a  large  fauteuil,  a 
lamp,  some  wine,  some  water,  and  some  dry  bread. 

_  He  refreshed  his  lamp,  drank  half  a  glass  of  wine,  curled 
his  lip  with  a  smile  full  of  expression,  installed  himself  n? 
his  large  armchair,  and  made  preparations  for  sleeping. 


54  THE  VIC0MTE   DE   JPcAGELONNE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IN    WHICH   THE    UNKNOWN   OF  THE  HOSTELRY  OF   LES  MEDIC, 
LOSES  HIS   INCOGNITO. 

This  officer,  who  was  sleeping,  or  preparing  to  sleep,  was, 
notwithstanding  his  careless  air,  charged  with  a  serious  re 
sjsonsibility. 

Lieutenant  of  the  king's  musketeers,  he  commanded  all 
the  company  which  came  from  Paris,  and  that  company 
consisted  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  men;  but,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  twenty  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  the  other 
hundred  were  engaged  in  guarding  the  queen-mother,  and 
more  particularly  the  cardinal. 

Monsignor  Giulio  Mazarini  economized  the  traveling  ex- 
penses of  his  guards;  he  consequently  used  the  king's,  and 
that  largely,  since  he  took  fifty  of  them  for  himself — a 
peculiarity  which  would  not  have  failed  to  strike  any  one 
unacquainted  with  the  usages  of  that  court. 

That  which  would  not,  still  further,  have  appeared,  if 
not  inconvenient,  at  least  extraordinary,  to  a  stranger,  was, 
that  the  side  of  the  castle  destined  for  M.  le  Cardinal 
was  brilliant,  light,  and  cheerful.  The  musketeers  there 
mounted  guard  before  every  door,  and  allowed  no  one  to 
enter,  except  the  couriers,  who,  even  while  he  was  travel- 
ing, followed  the  cardinal  for  the  carrying  on  of  his  corre- 
spondence. 

Twenty  men  were  on  duty  with  the  queen-mother;  thirty 
rested,  in  order  to  relieve  their  companions  the  next  day. 

On  the  king's  side,  on  the  contrary,  were  darknessy 
silence,  and  solitude.  When  once  the  doors  were  closed, 
there  was  no  longer  an  appearance  of  royalty.  All  the 
servitors  had  by  degrees  retired.  M.  le  Prince  had  sent  to 
know  if  his  majesty  required  his  attendance;  and  on  the 
customary  "No"  of  the  lieutenant  of  musketeers,  who  was 
habituated  to  the  question  and  the  reply,  all  appeared  to 
sink  into  the  •xms  of  sleep,  as  if  in  the  dwelling  of  a  good 
citizen. 

And  yet  it  was  possible  to  hear  from  the  side  of  the  house 
occupied  by  the  young  king  the  music  of  the  banquet,  and 
to  see  the  windows  of  the  great  hall  richly  illuminated. 

Ten  minutes  after  his  installation  in  his  apartment,  Louis 
XIV.  had  been  able  to  learn,  by  a  movement  much  more 
distinguished  than  marked  his  own  leaving,  the  departure 


THE   VICOMTE  DE   BRAGELONNE.  55 

of  the  cardinal,  who,  in  his  turn,  sought  his  bedroom, 
accompanied  by  a  large  escort  of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

Besides,  to  perceive  this  movement,  he  had  nothing  to 
do  but  to  look  out  at  his  window,  the  shutters  of  which  had 
not  been  closed. 

His  eminence  crossed  the  court,  conducted  by  Monsieur, 
who  himself  held  a  flambeau;  then  followed  the  queen- 
mother,  to  whom  madame  familiarly  gave  her  arm;  and 
both  walked  chatting  away,  like  two  old  friends. 

Behind  these  two  couples  filed  nobles,  ladies,  pages,  and 
officers;  the  flambeaus  gleamed  over  the  whole  court,  like 
the  moving  reflections  of  a  conflagration.  Then  the  noise 
of  steps  and  voices  became  lost  in  the  upper  floors  of  the 
castle. 

No  one  was  then  thinking  of  the  king,  who,  leaning  on 
his  elbow  at  his  window,  had  sadly  seen  pass  away  all  that 
light,  and  heard  that  noise  die  off — no,  not  one,  if  it  was 
not  that  unknown  of  the  hostelry  Des  Medici,  whom  we 
have  seen  go  out,  enveloped  in  his  cloak. 

He  had  come  straight  up  to  the  castle,  and  had,  with  his 
melancho^  countenance,  wandered  round  and  round  the 
palace,  from  which  the  people  had  not  yet  departed;  and 
finding  that  no  one  guarded  the  great  entrance,  or  the 
porch,  seeing  that  the  soldiers  of  Monsieur  were  fraterniz- 
ing with  the  royal  soldiers — that  is  to  say,  swallowing 
Beaugency  at  discretion,  or  rather,  indiscretion — the  un- 
known penetrated  through  the  crowd,  then  ascended  to  the 
court,  and  came  to  the  landing  of  the  staircase  leading  to 
the  cardinal's  apartment. 

What,  according  to  all  probability,  induced  him  to  direct 
his  steps  that  way,  was  the  splendor  of  the  flambeaus,  and 
the  busy  air  of  the  pages  and  domestics.  But  he  was 
stopped  short  by  a  presented  musket  and  the  cry  of  the 
sentinel.     "Where  are  you  going,  my  friend?" 

"I  am  going  to  the  king's  apartment,"  replied  the  un- 
known, haughtily  but  tranquilly. 

The  soldier  called  one  of  his  eminence's  officers,  who,  in 
the  tone  in  which  a  youth  in  office  directs  a  solicitor  to  a 
minister^  let  fall  these  words:  "The  other  staircasp,  in 
front."  And  the  officer,  without  further  notice  of  the 
unknown,   resumed   his   interrupted   conversation. 

The  stranger,  without  reply,  directed  his  steps  toward 
the  staircase  pointed  out  to  him.  On  this  side  there  wac 
no  noise,  there  were  no  more  flambeaus. 


56  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONlirE. 

Obscurity,  through  which  a  sentinel  glided  like  a  shadow; 
silence,  which  permitted  him  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  own 
footsteps,  accompanied  with  the  jingling  of  his  spurs  upon 
the  stone  slabs. 

This  guard,  was  one  of  the  twenty  musketeers  appointed 
tor  attendance  upon  the  king,  and  who  mounted  guard  with 
the  stiffness  and  consciousness  of  a  statue. 

"AVho  goes  there?"  said  the  guard. 

"A  friend,"  replied  the  unknown, 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"To  speak  to  the  king." 

"Do  you,  my  dear  monsieur?     That's  not  very  likely. M 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  the  king  is  gone  to  bed." 

"Gone  to  bed  already?" 

"Yes." 

"No  matter;  I  must  speak  to  him." 

"And  I  tell  you  that  is  impossible." 

"And  yet " 

"Go  back!" 

"Do  you  require  the  word?" 

"I  have  no  account  to  render  to  you.     Stand  back!" 

And  this  time  the  soldier  accompanied  his  word  with  a 
threatening  gesture;  but  the  unknown  stirred  no  more  than 
if  his  feet  had  taken  root. 

"Monsieur  le  Mousquetaire,"  said  he,  "are  you  a  gentle- 
man?" 

"I  have  that  honor." 

"Very  well!  I  also  am  one;  and  between  gentlemen 
some  consideration  ought  to  be  observed." 

The  soldier  lowered  his  arms,  overcome  by  the  dignity 
with  which  these  words  were  pronounced. 

"Speak,  monsieur,"  said  he;  "and  if  you  ask  me  any- 
thing in  my  power " 

"Thank  you.     You  have  an  officer,  have  you  not?" 

"Our  lieutenant!     Yes,  monsieur." 

"Well,  I  wish  to  speak  to  him." 

"Oh,  that's  a  different  thing.     Come  up,  monsieur." 

The  unknown  saluted  the  soldier  in  a  lofty  fashion,  and 
ascended  the  staircase;  while  the  cry,  "Lieutenant,  a  visit!" 
transmitted  from  sentinel  to  sentinel,  preceded  the  un- 
known, and  disturbed  the  slumbers  of  that  officer. 

Dragging  on  his  boots,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  hooking  his 
cloak,  the  lieutenant  made  three  steps  toward  the  stranger. 

"What  can  I  do  to  serve  you,  monsieur?"  asked  he. 


THE   VlCOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  57 

"You  are  the  officer  on  duty,  lieutenant  of  the  mus- 
keteers, are  you?" 

"I  have  that  honor,"  replied  the  officer. 

"Monsieur,  I  must  absolutely  speak  to  the  king." 

The  lieutenant  looked  attentively  at  the  unknown,  and  in 
that  look,  however  rapid,  he  saw  all  he  wished  to  see — that 
is  to  say,  a  person  of  high  distinction  in  an  ordinary  dress. 

"I  do  not  suppose  you  to  be  mad,"  replied  he;  "and  yet 
you  seem  to  me  to  be  in  a  condition  to  know,  monsieur, 
that  people  do  not  enter  a  king's  apartments  in  this  man- 
ner without  his  consent." 

"He  will  consent."  , 

"Monsieur,  permit  me  to  doubt  that.  The  king  has  re- 
tired this  quarter  of  an  hour;  he  must  be  now  undressing. 
Besides,  the  word  is  given." 

"When  he  knows  who  I  am  he  will  recall  the  word." 

The  officer  was  more  and  more  surprised,  more  and  more 
subdued. 

"If  I  consent  to  announce  you,  may  I  at  least  know 
whom  to  announce,  monsieur?" 

"You  will  announce  His  Majesty  Charles  II.,  King  of 
England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland." 

The  officer  uttered  a  cry  of  astonishment,  drew  back,  and 
there  might  be  seen  upon  his  pallid  countenance  one  of  the 
most  poignant  emotions  that  ever  an  energetic  man  en- 
deavored to  drive  back  to  his  heart. 

"Oh,  yes,  sire;  in  fact,"  said  he,  "I  ought  to  have  recog- 
nized you." 

"You  have  seen  my  portrait,  then?" 

"No,  sire." 

"Or  else  you  have  seen  me  formerly  at  court,  before  I 
was  driven  from  France?" 

"No,  sire,  it  is  not  even  that." 

"How,  then,  could  you  have  recognized  me,  if  you  have 
never  seen  my  portrait  or  my  person?" 

"Sire,  I  saw  his  majesty,  your  father,  at  a  terrible 
moment." 

"The  day " 

"Yes." 

A  dark  cloud  passed  over  the  brow  of  the  prince;  then, 
dashing  his  hand  across  it,  "Do  you  still  see  any  difficulty 
in  announcing  me?"  said  he. 

"Sire,  pardon  me,"  replied  the  officer,  "but  I  could  not 
imagine  a  king  under  so  simple  an  exterior;  and  yet  I  had 
the  honor  to  tell  vour  majesty  just  now  that  I  had  seen 


58  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRA6ELONNE. 

Charles  I.     But  pardon  me,  monsieur;  I  will  go  and  inform 
the  king." 

But  returning  after  going  a  few  steps,  "Your  majesty  is 
desirous,  without  doubt,  that  this  interview  should  be  a 
secret?"  said  he. 

"I  do  not  require  it;  but  if  it  were  possible  to  preserve 
it » 

"It  is  possible,  sire,  for  I  can  dispense  with  informing 
the  first  gentleman  on  duty;  but,  for  that,  your  majesty 
must  please  to  consent  to  give  up  your  swori." 

"True,  true;  I  had  forgotten  that  no  one  armed  is  per- 
mitted to  enter  the  chamber  of  a  King  of  France." 

"Your  majesty  will  form  an  exception,  if  you  wish  it; 
but  then  I  shall  avoid  my  responsibility  by  informing  the 
king's  attendant. " 

"Here  is  my  sword,  monsieur.  Will  you  now  please  to 
announce  me  to  his  majesty?" 

"Instantly,  sire."  And  the  officer  immediately  went  and 
knocked  at  the  door  of  communication,  which  the  valet 
opened  to  him. 

"His  Majesty  tho  King  of  England!"  said  the  officer. 

"His  Majesty  the  King  of  England!"  replied  'the  valet 
de  chambre. 

At  these  words  a  gentleman  opened  the  folding-doors  of 
the  king's  apartment,  and  Louis  XI V.  was  seen,  without 
hat  or  sword,  and  his  pourpoint  open,  advancing  with 
signs  of  the  greatest  surprise. 

You,  my  brother — you  at  Blois!"  cried  Louis  XIV., 
dismissing  with  a  gesture  both  the  gentleman  and  the  valet 
de  chambre,  who  passed  out  into  the  next  apartment. 

"Sire,"  replied  Charles  II.,  "I  was  going  to  Paris,  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  your  majesty,  when  report  informed  me  of 
your  approaching  arrival  in  this  city.  I  therefore  prolonged 
my  abode  here,  having  something  very  particular  to  com- 
municate to  you." 

"Will  this  closet  suit  you,  my  brother?" 

"Perfectly  well,  sire;  for  I  think  no  one  can  hear  ua 
here." 

"I  have  dismissed  my  gentleman  and  my  watcher;  they 
are  in  the  next  chamber.  There,  behind  that  partition,  is 
a  solitary  closet,  looking  into  the  antechamber,  and  in  that 
antechamber  you  found  nobody  but  a  solitary  officer,  did 
you?" 

"No,  sire." 

"Well,  then,  speak,  my  brother;  I  listen  to  you." 


THE   VICOMTK    PE   BRAGELONNE.  59 

"Sire.  I  commence,  and  entreat  your  majesty  to  have 
pity  on  the  misfortunes  of  our  house." 

The  King  of  France  colored,  and  drew  his  chair  closer  to 
that  of  the  King  of  England. 

"Sire/'  said  Charles  II.,  "I  have  no  need  to  ask  if  your 
majesty  is  acquainted  with  the  details  of  my  deplorable 
history." 

Louis  XIV.  blushed,  this  time  more  strongly  than  before? 
then,  stretching  forth  his  hand  to  that  of  the  King  of  Eng- 
land, "My  brother,"  said  he,  "I  am  ashamed  to  say  so, 
but  the  cardinal  scarcely  ever  speaks  of  political  affairs  be- 
fore me.  Still  more,  formerly  I  used  to  get  Laporte,  my 
valet  de  chambre,  to  read  historical  subjects  to  me;  but  he 
put  a  stop  to  these  readings,  and  took  away  Laporte  from 
me.  So  that  I  beg  my  brother  Charles  tc  tell  me  all  those 
matters  as  to  a  man  who  knows  nothing." 

"Well,  sire,  I  think  that  by  taking  things  from  the  be- 
ginning I  shall  have  a  better  chance  of  touching  the  heart 
of  your  majesty." 

"Speak  on,  my  brother — speak  on." 

"You  know,  sire,  that,  being  called  in  1650  to  Edinburg, 
during  Cromwell's  expedition  into  Ireland,  I  was  crowned 
at  Scone.  A  year  after,  wounded  in  one  of  the  provinces 
he  had  usurped,  Cromwell  returned  upon  us.  To  meet  him 
was  my  object;  to  leave  Scotland  was  my  wish." 

"And  yet,"  interrupted  the  young  king,  "Scotland  is 
almost  your  native  country,  is  it  not,  my  brother?" 

"Yes;  but  the  Scots  were  cruel  compatriots  for  me,  sire; 
they  had  forced  me  to  forsake  the  religion  of  my  fathers; 
they  had  hung  Lord  Montrose,  the  most  devoted  of  my 
servants,  because  he  was  not  a  Covenanter;  and  as  the  poor 
martyr,  to  whom  they  had  offered  a  favor  when  dying,  had 
asked  that  his  body  might  be  cut  into  as  many  pieces  as 
there  are  cities  in  Scotia  id,  in  order  tha'  evidence  of  his 
fidelity  might  be  met  with  everywhere,  I  could  not  leave 
one  city,  or  go  into  ano'her,  without  passing  under  some 
fragments  of  a  body  whi  Ji  had  acted,  fought,  and  breathed 
for  me. 

"By  a  bold,  almost  desperate  march,  I  passed  through 
Cromwell's  army,  and  entered  England.  The  Protector 
set  out  in  pursuit  of  this,  strange  flight,  which  had  a  crown 
for  its  object.  If  I  had  been  able  to  reach  London  before 
him,  without  doubt,  the  prize  of  the  race  would  have  been 
mine;  but  he  overtook  me  at  Worcester. 

"The  genius  of  England  was  no  longer  with  us,  but  with 


80  '  Kl£  VICOMTE  BSTKRlGEI/ONITE. 

-J 

him.  On  the  5th  of  September,  1651,  sire,  the  anniversary 
of  the  other  battle  of  Dunbar,  so  fatal  to  the  Scots,  I  was 
conquered.  Two  thousand  men  fell  around  me  before  1 
thought  of  retreating  a  step.  At  length  I  was  obliged  to  fly. 

"From  that  moment  my  history  became  a  romance.  Pur- 
sued with  persistent  inveteracy,  I  cut  off  my  hair,  I  dis- 
guised myself  as  a  woodman.  One  day  spent  amid  the 
branches  of  an  oak  gave  to  that  tree  the  name  of  the  Royal 
Oak,  which  it  bears  to  this  day.  My  adventures  in  the 
county  of  Stafford,  whence  I  escaped  with  the  daughter  of 
my  host  on  a  pillion  behind  me,  still  fill  the  tales  of  the 
country  firesides,  and  would  furnish  matter  for  ballads.  I 
will  some  day  write  all  this,  sire. 

"I  will  first  tell  how  on  arriving  at  the  residence  of  Mr. 
Norton,  I  met  with  a  court  chaplain,  who  was  looking  on 
at  a  party  playing  at  skittles,  and  an  old  servant  who  named 
me,  bursting  into  tears,  and  who  was  as  near  and  as  cer- 
tainly killing  me  by  his  fidelity  as  another  might  have  been 
by  his  treachery.  Then  I  will  tell  of  my  terrors — yes,  sire, 
of  my  terrors — when,  at  the  house  of  Colonel  Windham,  a 
farrier  who  came  to  shoe  our  horses  declared  they  had  been 
shod  in  the  north." 

"Hoav  strange  !"  murmured  Louis  XIV.  "I  never  heard 
anything  of  all  that ;  I  was  only  told  of  your  embarkation 
at  Brighthelmstone  and  your  landing  in  Normandy." 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  Charles,  "if  Heaven  permits  kings  to 
be  thus  ignorant  of  the  histories  of  one  another,  how  can 
they  render  assistance  to  their  brothers  who  need  it?" 

"But  tell  me,"  continued  Louis  XIV.,  "how,  after  being 
so  roughly  received  in  England,  you  can  still  hope  for  any- 
thing from  that  unhappy  country  ?" 

"Oh,  sire !  since  the  battle  of  Worcester  everything  is 
changed  there.  Cromwell  is  dead,  after  having  signed  a 
treaty  with  France,  in  which  his  name  was  placed  above 
yours.  He  died  on  the  5th  of  September,  1658,  a  fresh 
anniversary  of  the  battles  of  Dunbar  and  Worcester." 

"His  son  has  succeeded  him." 

"But  certain  men  have  a  family,  sire,  and  no  heir.  The 
inheritance  of  Oliver  was  too  heavy  for  Eichard.  Richard 
was  neither  a  republican  nor  a  royalist ;  Richard  allowed  his 
guards  to  eat  his  dinner,  and  his  generals  to  govern  the 
republic ;  Richard  abdicated  the  protectorate  on  the  22d  of 
April,  1659,  more  than  a  year  ago,  sir*. 


tHE  VtCOMTE  DE   BRAGKLONNE,  61 

"Prom  that  time  England  is  nothing  but  a  tennis-court, 
in  which  the  players  throw  dice  for  the  crown  of  my  father. 
The  two  n  ost  eager  players  are  Lambert  and  Monk.  Well, 
sire,  I,  in  my  turn,  wish  to  take  part  in  this  game,  whero 
the  stakes  are  thrown  upon  my  royal  mantle.  Sire,  it  only 
requires  a  million  to  corrupt  one  of  these  players  and  make 
an  ally  of  him,  or  two  hundred  of  your  gentlemen  to  drive 
them  out  of  my  palace  at  Whitehall,  as  Christ  drove  the 
money-changers  from  the  temple." 

"You  come,  then,"  replied  Louis  XIV.,  "to  ask  me " 

"For  your  assistance;  that  is  to  say,  not  only  for  that 
which  kings  owe  to  one  another,  but  that  which  simple 
Christians  owe  to  one  another — your  assistance,  sire,  either 
in  money  or  men.  Your  assistance,  sire,  and  within  a 
month,  whether  I  oppose  Lambert  to  Monk,  or  Monk  to 
Lambert,  I  shall  have  reconquered  my  paternal  inheritance 
without  having  cost  my  country  a  guinea  or  my  subjects  a 
drop  of  blood,  for  they  are  now  all  drunk  with  revolutions, 
protectorates,  and  republics,  and  ask  nothing  better  than 
to  fall  staggering  to  sleep  in  the  arms  of  royalty.  Your 
assistance,  sire,  and  I  shall  owe  you  more  than  I  owe  my 
father — my  poor  father,  who  bought  at  so  dear  a  rate  the 
ruin  of  our  house!  You  may  judge,  sire,  whether  I  am  un- 
happy, whether  I  am  in  despair,  for  I  accuse  my  own 
father!" 

And  the  blood  mounted  to  the  pale  face  of  Charles  II., 
who  remained  for  an  instant  with  his  head  between  his 
hands,  and  as  if  blinded  by  that  blood  which  appeared  to 
revolt  against  the  filial  blasphemy. 

The  young  king  was  not  less  affected  than  his  elder 
brother;  he  threw  himself  about  in  his  fauteuil,  and  could 
not  find  a  single  word  of  reply. 

Charles  II.,  to  whom  ten  years  in  age  gave  a  superior 
strength  to  master  his  emotions,  recovered  his  speech  first. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "your  reply?  I  wait  for  it  as  a  criminal 
waits  for  his  sentence.     Must  I  die?" 

"My  brother,"  replied  the  French  prince,  "you  ask  me 
for  a  million — me,  who  was  never  possessed  of  a  quarter  of 
that  sum!  I  possess  nothing...  I  am  no  more  King  of 
France  than  you  are  King  of  England.  I  am  a  name,  a 
cipher  dressed  in  jleur-de-lised  velvet — that  is  all.  I  am 
upon  a  visible  throne;  that  is  my  only  advantage  over  your 
majesty.     I  have  nothing — I  can  do  nothing." 

"Can  it  be  so?"  exclaimed  Charles  II. 

"My  brother,"  said  Louis,  sinking  his  voice,  "(  have  un 


€2  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOBTNE. 

^ergono  miseries  with  which  my  poorest  gentlemen  ar« 
unacquainted.  If  my  poor  Laporte  were  here,  he  would 
tell  you  that  I  have  slept  in  ragged  sheets,  through  the 
holes  of  which  my  legs  have  passed;  he  would  tell  you  that 
afterward,  when  I  asked  for  carriages,  they  brought  me 
conveyances  half-destroyed  by  the  rats  of  the  coach-houses; 
he  would  tell  you  that  when  I  asked  for  my  dinner,  the 
servants  went  to  the  cardinal's  kitchen  to  inquire  if  there 
were  any  dinner  for  the  king.  And  look!  to-day,  this  very 
day  even,  when  I  am  twenty-two  years  of  age — to-day,  when 
I  have  attained  the  grade  of  the  majority  of  kings — to-day, 
when  I  ought  to  have  the  key  of  the  treasury,  the  direction 
of  policy,  the  supremacy  in  peace  and  war — cast  your  eyes 
around  me,  see  how  I  am  left!  Look  at  this  abandonment 
— this  disdain — this  silence!  While  yonder — look  yonder! 
View  the  bustle,  the  lights,  the  homage!  There — there  you 
see  the  real  King  of  France,  my  brother!" 

"In  the  cardinal's  apartments?" 

"Yes,  in  the  cardinal's  apartments." 

"Then  I  am  condemned,  sire?" 

Louis  XIV.  made  no  reply. 

"Condemned  is  the  word;  for  I  will  never  solicit  him  who 
left  my  mother  and  sister  to  die  with  cold  and  hunger — th* 
daughter  and  granddaughter  of  Henry  IV. — if  Monsieur  de 
Ketz  and  the  parliament  had  not  sent  them  wood  and 
bread." 

"To  die?"  murmured  Louis  XIV. 

"Well!"  continued  the  King  of  England,  "poor  Charles 
[L,  grandson  of  Henry  IV.,  as  you  are,  sire,  having  neither 

Earliament  nor  Cardinal  de  Ketz  to  apply  to,  will  die  of 
unger,  as  his  mother  and  sister  had  nearly  done." 

Louis  knitted  his  brow,  and  twisted  violently  the  lace  oi 
his  ruffles. 

This  prostration,  this  immobility,  serving  as  a  mark  to 
in  emotion  so  visible,  struck  Charles  II.,  and  he  took  the 
young  man's  hand. 

"Thanks!"  said  he,  "my  brother.  You  pity  me,  and 
that  is  all  I  can  require  of  you  in  your  present  position." 

"Sire,"  said  Louis  XIV.,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  and 
raising  his  head,  "it  is  a  million  you  require,  or  two  hun. 
dred  gentlemen,  I  think  you  say?" 

"Sire,  a  million  would  be  quite  sufficient." 

"That  is  very  little." 

"Offered  to  a  single  man  it  is  a  great  deal.  Conviction* 
aave  been  purchased  at  a  much  lower  price;  and  I  should 
iiave  nothing  to  do  but  with  vonalities." 


THE  VlCOMTE  t>E  BRAGELOJTNE.  63 

"Two  hundred  gentlemen!  Reflect!  that  is  little  more 
than  a  single  company." 

"Sire,  there  is  in  our  family  a  tradition,  and  that  is,  that 
four  men,  four  French  gentlemen,  devoted  to  my  father, 
were  near  saving  my  father,  though  condemned  by  a  parlia- 
ment, guarded  by  an  army,  and  surrounded  by  a  nation." 

"Then  if  I  can  procure  you  a  million,  or  two  hundred 
gentlemen,  you  will  be  satisfied;  and  you  will  consider  me 
your  well-affectioned  brother?" 

"I  shall  consider  you  as  my  savior;  and  if  I  recover  the 
throne  of  my  father,  England  w\ll  be,  as  long  as  I  reign,  at 
least,  a  sister  to  France,  as  you  will  have  been  a  brother  to 
me." 

"Well,  my  brother,"  said  Louis,  rising,  "what  you  hesi- 
tate to  ask  for,  I  will  e myself  demand;  that  which  I  have 
never  done  on  my  own  account  I  will  do  on  yours.  I  will 
go  and  find  the  King  of  France — the  other — the  rich,  the 
powerful  one,  I  mean.  I  will  myself  solicit  this  million,  or 
these  two  hundred  gentlemen;  and — we  will  see." 

"Oh!"  cried  Charles;  "you  are  a  noble  friend,  sire — a 
heart  created  by  God!  You  save  me,  my  brother;  and,  if 
you  should  ever  stand  in  need  of  the  life  you  restore  me, 
demand  it." 

"Silence,  my  brother — silence!"  said  Louis,  in  a  sup- 
pressed voice.  "Take  care  that  no  one  hears  you!  We 
have  not  obtained  our  end  yet.  To  ask  money  of  Mazarin 
— that  is  worse  than  traversing  the  enchanted  forest,  each 
tree  of  which  inclosed  a  demon.  It  is  more  than  setting 
out  to  conquer  a  world." 

"But  yet,  sire,  when  you  ask  it " 

"I  have  already  told  you  that  I  never  asked,"  replied 
Louis,  with  a  haughtiness  that  made  the  King  of  England 
turn  pale. 

And  as  the  latter,  like  a  wounded  man,  made  a  retreating 
.movement — "Pardon  me,  my  brother,"  replied  he.  "I 
have  neither  a  mother  nor  a  sister  who  are  suffering.  My 
throne  is  hard  and  naked,  but  I  am  firmly  seated  on  mj 
throne.  Pardon  me  that  expression,  my  brother;  it  was 
thac  of  an  egotist.  I  will  retract  it,  therefore,  by  a  sacrifice 
—I  will  go  to  Monsieur  le  Cardinal.  Wait  for  me,  if  you 
please — I  will  return." 


64  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNB. 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE   ARITHMETIC   OF   II.    DE   MAZARIN. 

While  the  king  was  directing  his  course  rapidly  toward 
the  wing  of  the  castle  occupied  by  the  cardinal,  taking 
nobody  with  him  but  his  valet  de  cliambre,  the  officer  of 
musketeers  came  out,  breathing  like  a  man  who  has  for  a 
long  time  been  forced  to  hold  his  breath,  from  the  little 
cabinet  of  which  we  have  already  spoken,  and  which  the 
king  believed  to  be  quite  solitary.  This  little  cabinet  had 
formerly  been  part  of  the  chamber,  from  which  it  was  only 
separated  by  a  thin  partition.  It  resulted  that  this  parti- 
tion, which  was  only  for  the  eye,  permitted  the  ear  the  least 
indiscreet  to  hear  every  word  spoken  in  the  ,hamber. 

There  was  no  doubt  then  that  this  lieutenant  of  mus- 
keteers had  heard  all  that  passed  in  his  majesty's  apartment. 

"Warned  by  the  last  words  of  the  young  king,  he  came  out 
just  in  time  to  salute  him  on  his  passage,  and  to  follow  him 
with  his  eyes  till  he  had  disappeared  in  the  corridor. 

Then,  as  soon  as  he  had  disappeared,  he  shook  his  head 
after  a  fashion  peculiarly  his  own,  and  in  a  voice  which 
forty  years'  absence  from  Gascony  had  not  deprived  of  its 
Gascon  accent,  "A  melancholy  service,"  said  he,  "and  a 
melancholy  master!" 

These  words  pronounced,  the  lieutenant  resumed  his 
place  in  his  fauteuil,  stretched  his  legs,  and  closed  his  eyes, 
like  a  man  who  either  sleeps  or  meditates. 

During  this  short  monologue  and  the  mise-eii-scene  that 
had  accompanied  it,  while  the  king,  through  the  long  cor- 
ridors of  the  old  castle,  proceeded  to  the  apartment  of  M.  de 
Mazarin,  a  scene  of  another  sort  was  being  enacted  in  those 
apartments. 

Mazarin  was  in  bed,  suffering  a  little  from  the  gout.  But 
as  he  was  a  man  of  order,  who  utilized  even  pain,  he  forced 
his  wakefulness  to  be  the  humble  servant  of  his  labor.  He 
had  consequently  ordered  Bernouin,  his  valet  de  chambrex 
to  bring  him  a  little  traveling-desk,  so  that  he  might  write 
in  bed.  But  the  gout  is  not  an  adversary  that  allows  itself 
to  be  conquered  so  easily;  therefore,  at  each  movement  he 
made,  the  pain  from  dull  became  sharp. 

"Is  Brienne  there?"  he  asked  of  Bernouin. 

"No,  monseigneur,"  replied  the  valet  de  chambre; 
"Monsieur  de  Brienne,   with  your  permission,  is  gone  tc 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELON"NE.  65 

bed.  But,  if  it  is  the  wish  of  your  eminence,  he  can  speedily 
be  called." 

"No;  it  is  not  worth  while.  Let  us  see,  however. 
Oursed  ciphers!"  >■ 

And  the  cardinal  began  to  think,  counting  on  his  fingers 
the  while. 

"Oh!  ciphers  is  it?"  saidBernouin.  "Very  well!  if  your 
eminence  attempts  calculations  I  will  promise  you  a  pretty 
headache  to-morrow!  And  with  that  please  to  remember 
Monsieur  Guenaud  is  not  here.'* 

"You  are  right,  Bernouin.  You  must  take  Brienne's 
place,  my  friend.  Indeed,  I  ought  to  have  brought  Mon- 
sieur Colbert  with  me.  That  young  man  goes  on  very  well, 
Bernouin,  very  well;  a  very  orderly  youth." 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  valet  de  chambre,  "but  I  don't 
like  the  countenance  of  your  young  man  who  goes  on  so 
well." 

"Well,  well,  Bernouin!  We  don't  stand  in  need  of  your 
advice.     Place  yourself  there;  take  the  pen,  and  write." 

"I  am  ready,  monseigneur;  what  am  I  to  write?" 

"There,  that's  the  place;  after  the  two  lines  already 
traced." 

"I  am  there." 

"Write  seven  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  livres." 

"That  is  written." 

"Upon  Lyons — "     The  cardinal  appeared  to  hesitate. 

"Upon  Lyons,"  repeated  Bernouin. 

"Three  millions  nine  hundred  thousand  l^res." 

"Well,  monseigneur?" 

"Upon  Bordeaux,  seven  millions." 

"Seven?"  repeated  Bernouin. 

"Yes,"  said  the  cardinal  pettishly,  "seven."  Then 
recollecting  himself,  "You  understand,  Bernouin,"  added 
he,  "that  all  this  money  is  to  be  spent?" 

"Eh!  monseigneur;  whether  it  be  to  be  spent  or  put 
away  is  of  very  little  consequence  to  me,  since  none  of  these 
millions  are  mine." 

"These  millions  are  the  king's;  it  is  the  king's  money  I 
am  reckoning.  Well,  what  were  we  saying?  You  always 
interrupt  me!" 

"Seven  millions  upon  Bordeaux." 

"Ah!  yes;  that's  right.  Upon  Madrid  four  millions.  I 
give  you  to  understand  plainly  whom  this  money  belongs 
to,  Bernouin,  seeing  that  everybody  has  the  stupid  it)  to 
believe   me  rich   in  millions.     I   repel   the   silly  idea.     A 


66  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOKNE," 

minister,  besides,  has  nothing  of  his  own.  _  Come,  go  on. 
Rentrees  generates,  seven  millions;  properties,  nine  mil- 
lions.    Have  you  written  that,  Bernouin?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

"Bourse,  six  hundred  thousand  livres;  various  property, 
two  millions.  Ah!  I  forgot — the  furniture  of  the  different 
chateaus " 

"Must  I  put  of  the  crown?"  asked  Bernouin. 

"No,  no;  it  is  of  no  use  doing  that — that  is  understood 
Have  you  written  that,  Bernouin?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

"And  the  ciphers?" 

"Stand  straight,  one  under  another." 

"Cast  them  up,  Bernouin." 

"Thirty-nine  millions  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 
livres,  monseigneur." 

"Ah!"  cried  the  cardinal,  in  a  tone  of  vexation;  "there 
are  not  yet  forty  millions!" 

Bernouin  recommenced  the  addition. 

"No,  monseigneur;  there  want  seven  hundred  and  forty 
thousand  livres." 

Mazarin  asked  for  the  account,  and  revised  it  carefully. 

"Yes,  but,"  said  Bernouin,  "thirty-nine  millions  two 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  livres  make  a  good  round 
sum." 

"Ah,  Bernouin;  I  wish  the  king  had  it." 

"Your  eminence  told  me  that  this  money  was  his 
majesty's." 

"Doubtless,  as  clear,  as  transparent  as  possible.  These 
thirty-nine  millions  are  bespoken,  and  much  more." 

Bernouin  smiled  after  his  own  fashion — that  is,  like  a 
man  who  believes  no  more  than  he  is  willing  to  believe — • 
while  preparing  the  cardinal's  night-draught,  and  putting 
his  pillow  to  rights. 

"Oh!"  said  Mazarin,  when  the  valet  had  gone  out,  "not 
yet  forty  millions!  I  must,  however,  attain  that  sum,  which 
1  had  set  down  for  myself.  But  who  knows  whether  I  shall 
have  time?  I  sink,  I  am  going,  I  shall  never  reach  it! 
And  yet,  who  knows  that  I  may  not  find  two  or  three  mil 
lions  in  the  pockets  of  my  good  friends  the  Spaniards? 
They  discovered  Peru,  those  people  did,  and — what  the 
devil!  they  must  have  something  left." 

As  he   was   speaking  thus,  entirely   occupied   with   his^ 
ciphers,  and  thinking  no  more  of  his  gout,  repelled  by  a 
preoccupation  which,  with  the  cardinal,  was  the  most  pow- 


THE   V1C0MTE   DE  BKAGKELONNE.  67 

erful  of  all  preoccupations,  Bernouiu  rushed  iuto  the  cham- 
ber quite  in  a  fright. 

"Well!"  asked  the  cardinal,  "what  is  the  matter  now?" 

"The  king,  monseigneur — the  king!" 

"How?  the  king!"  said  Mazarin,  quickly  concealing  his 
paper.  "The  king  here!  the  king  at  this  hour!  I  thought 
he  was  in  bed  long  ago.     What  is  the  matter  then?" 

The  king  could  hear  these  last  words,  and  see  the  terri- 
fied gesture  of  the  cardinal  rising  up  in  his  bed,  for  he 
entered  th'e  chamber  at  that  moment. 

"It  is  nothing,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  or  at  least  nothing 
which  can  alarm  you.  It  is  an  important  communication 
which  I  wish  to  make  to  your  eminence  to-night — that  is 
all." 

Mazarin  immediately  thought  of  that  marked  attention 
which  the  king  had  given  to  his  words  concerning  Mile,  de 
Mancini,  and  the  communication  appeared  to  him  probably 
to  refer  to  this  source.  He  recovered  his  serenity  then 
instantly,  and  assumed  his  most  agreeable  air,  a  change  of 
countenance  which  inspired  the  king  with  the  greatest  joy; 
and  when  Louis  was  seated: 

"Sire,"  said  the  cardinal,  "I  ought  certainly  to  listen  to 
your  majesty  standing,  but  the  violence  of  my  com- 
plaint  " 

"No  ceremony  between  us,  my  dear  Monsieur  le  Car- 
dinal," said  Louis  kindly;  "I  am  your  pupil,  and  not  the 
king,  you  know  very  well,  and  this  evening  in  particular,  as 
I  come  to  you  as  a  petitioner,  as  a  solicitor,  and  one  very 
humble  and  desirous  to  be  kindly  received,  too." 

Mazarin,  seeing  the  heightened  color  of  the  king,  was 
confirmed  in  his  first  idea;  that  is  to  say,  that  love  thoughts 
were  hidden  under  all  these  fine  words.  This  time,  polit- 
ical cunning,  keen  as  it  was,  made  a  mistake;  this  color 
was  not  caused  by  the  bashfulness  of  a  juvenile  passion,  out 
only  by  the  painful  contraction  of  the  royal  pride. 

Like  a  good  uncle,  Mazarin  felt  disposed  to  facilitate  the 
confidence. 

"Speak,  sire,"  said  he,  "and  since  your  majesty  is  will- 
ing for  an  instant  to  forget  that  I  am  your  subject,  and  call 
me  your  master  and  instructor,  I  promise  your  majesty  rry 
most  devoted  and  tender  consideration." 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,"  answered  the  king; 
"that  which  I  have  to  ask  of  your  eminence  has  but  little 
to  do  with  myself." 

"So  much  the  worse!"  replied  the  cardinal;  "so  much 


68  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

the  worse!  Sire,  I  should  wish  your  majesty  to  ask  of  mi 
something  of  importance,  even  a  sacrifice;  but  whatever  it 
may  be  that  you  ask  me,  I  am  ready  to  set  your  heart  at 
rest  by  granting  it,  my  dear  sire." 

"Wei*,  this  is  what  brings  me  here,"  said  the  king,  with 
a  beating  of  the  heart  that  had  no  equal  except  the  beating 
of  the  heart  of  the  minister;  "I  have  just  received  a  visit 
from  mj  brother,  the  King  of  England." 

Mazarin  bounded  in  his  bed  as  if  he  had  been  put  in 
relation  with  a  Leyden  jar  or  a  voltaic  pile,  at  the  same  time 
that  a  surprise,  or  rather  a  manifest  disappointment,  in- 
flamed his  features  with  such  a  blaze  of  anger  that  Louis 
XIV.,  little  diplomatist  as  he  was,  saw  that  the  minister 
had  hoped  to  hear  something  else.  "Charles  II.?"  ex- 
claimed Mazarin,  with  a  hoarse  voice  and  a  disdainful 
movement  of  his  lips.  "You  have  received  a  visit  from 
Charles  II.?" 

"From  King  Charles  II.,"  replied  Louis,  according  in  a 
marked  manner  to  the  grandson  of  Henr^  IV.  the  title 
which  Mazarin  had  forgotten  to  give  him.  "Yes,  Mon- 
sieur le  Cardinal,  that  unhappy  prince  has  touched  my 
heart  with  the  relation  of  his  misfortunes.  His  distress  is 
great,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  and  it  has  appeared  painful  to 
me,  who  have  seen  my  own  throne  disputed,  who  have  been 
forced,  in  times  of  commotion,  to  quit  my  capital- -to  me, 
in  short,  who  am  acquainted  with  misfortune — to  lpave  a 
deposed  and  fugitive  brother  without  assistance." 

"Eh!"  said  the  cardinal  sharply;  "why  had  he  not,  as 
you  have,  a  Jules  Mazarin  by  his  side?  His  crown  would 
then  have  remained  intact." 

"I  know  all  that  my  house  owes  to  your  eminence,"  re- 

flied  the  king  haughtily,  "and  you  may  believe  well  that 
,  on  my  part,  shall  never  forget  it.  It  is  precisely  because 
my  brother,  the  King  of  England,  has  not  about  him  the 
powerful  genius  who  has  saved  me,  it  is  for  that,  I  say, 
that  1  wish  to  conciliate  the  aid  of  that  same  genius,  and 
beg  you  to  extend  your  arm  over  his  head,  well  assured, 
Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  that  your  hand,  by  touching  him 
only,  would  know  how  to  replace  upon  his  brow  the  crown 
which  fell  at  the  foot  of  his  father's  scaffold." 

"Sire,"  replied  Mazarin,  "I  thank  you  for  your  good 
opinion  with  regard  to  myself,  but  we  have  nothing  to  do 
yonder;  they  are  a  set  of  madmen  who  deny  God,  and  cut 
off  the  heads  of  their  kings.  They  are  dangerous,  observe 
sire,  and  filthy  to  the  touch  after  having  wallowed  in  roya, 


THE   VICOMTL    DE    BRAGELONNE.  69 

blood  and  covenantal  murder.  That  policy  has  never  salted 
me — I  scorn  it  and  reject  it." 

"Therefore  you  ought  to  assist  in  establishing  a  better." 

"What  is  that?" 

"The  restoration  of  Charles '11.,  for  example." 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Mazarin,  "does  the  poor  prince 
flatter  himself  with  that  chimera?" 

"Yes,  he  does,"  replied  the  young  king,  terrified  at  the 
difficulties  opposed  to  this  project,  which  he  fancied  he 
could  perceive  in  the  infallible  eye  of  his  minister;  "h« 
only  asks  for  a  million  to  carry  out  his  purpose." 

"Is  that  all— a  little  million,  if  you  please!"  said  the 
cardinal  ironically,  with  an  effort  to  conquer  his  Italian 
accent.  "A  little  million,  if  you  please,  brother!  Bah!  a 
family  of  mendicants!" 

"Cardinal,"  said  Louis,  raising  his  head,  "that  family  of 
mendicants  is  a  branch  of  my  family." 

"Are  you  rich  enough  to  give  millions  to  other  people, 
sire?    Have  you  millions  to  throw  away?" 

"Oh!"  replied  Louis  XIV.,  with  great  pain,  which  he, 
however,  by  a  strong  effort,  prevented  from  appearing  on 
his  countenance;  oh!  yes,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  I  am  well 
aware  I  am  poor,  and  yet  the  crown  of  France  is  worth  a 
million,  and  to  perform  a  good  action  I  would  pledge  my 
crown,  if  it  were  necessary.  I  could  find  Jews  who  would 
be  willing  to  lend  me  a  million." 

"So,  sire,  you  say  you  want  a  million?"  said  Mazarin. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  I  say  so." 

"You  are  mistaken,  greatly  mistaken,  sire;  you  want 
much  more  than  that —  Bernouin!  You  shall  see,  sire, 
how  much  you  really  want." 

"What,  cardinal!"  said  the  king,  "are  you  going  to  con- 
sult a  lackey  upon  my  affairs?" 

"Bernouin!"  cried  the  cardinal  again,  without  appearing 
'to  remark  the  humiliation  of  the  young  prince.  "Come 
here,  Bernouin,  and  describe  the  account  I  made  you  go 
into  just  now." 

"Cardinal,  cardinal!  did  you  not  hear  me?"  said  Louis, 
becoming  pale  with  anger. 

"Do  not  be  angry,  sire;  I  deal  openly  with  the  affairs  of 
your  majesty.  Every  one  in  France  knows  that;  my  books 
are  as  open  as  day.  What  did  I  tell  you  to  do  just  now, 
Bernouin?" 

"Your  eminence  commanded  me  to  cast  up  an  account/'' 

"You  did  it,  did  you  not?" 


70  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

"To  verify  the  amount  of  which  his  majesty,  at  this 
moment,  stands  in  need.  Did  I  not  tell  you  so?  Be  frank, 
my  friend." 

"Your  eminence  said  so." 

"Well,  what  sum  did  I  say  I  wanted?" 

"Forty-five  millions,  I  think." 

"And  what  sum  could  we  find,  after  collecting  all  our 
resources?" 

"Thirty-nine  millions  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand." 

"That  is  correct,  Bernouin;  that  is  all  I  wanted  to  know. 
Leave  us  now,"  said  the  cardinal,  fixing  his  brilliant  eye 
upon  the  young  king,  who  sat  mute  with  stupefaction. 

"But  yet — "  stammered  the  king. 

"What,  do  you  still  doubt,  sire?"  said  the  cardinal. 
"Well,  here  is  a  proof  of  what  I  said." 

And  Mazarin  drew  from  under  his  bolster  the  paper  cov- 
ered with  figures,  which  he  presented  to  the  king,  who 
turned  away  his  eyes,  his  vexation  was  so  profound. 

"Therefore,  as  it  is  a  million  you  want,  sire,  and  that 
million  is  not  set  down  here,  it  is  forty-six  millions  your 
majesty  stands  in  need  of.  Well,  I  don't  think  that  any 
Jews  in  the  world  would  lend  such  a  sum,  even  upon  the 
crown  of  France." 

The  king,  clinching  his  hands  beneath  his  ruffles,  pushed 
away  his  chair. 

"So  it  must  be,  then!"  said  he;  "my  brother,  the  King 
of  England,  will  die  with  hunger." 

"Sire,"  replied  Mazarin,  in  the  same  tone,  "remember 
this  proverb,  which  I  give  you  as  the  expression  of  the 
soundest  policy:  'Rejoice  at  being  poor  when  your  neighbor 
is  poor  likewise.' " 

Louis  meditated  for  a  few  moments,  with  an  inquisitive 
glance  directed  to  the  paper,  one  end  of  which  remained 
under  the  bolster. 

"Then,"  said  he,  "it  is  impossible  to  comply  with  my 
demand  for  money,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  is  it?" 

"Absolutely,  sire." 

"Remember,  this  will  secure  me  a  future  enemy,  if  he 
succeeds  in  regaining  his  crown  without  my  assistance." 

"If  your  majesty  only  fears  that,  you  may  be  quite  at 
ease,"  replied  Mazarin  eagerly. 

"Very  well,  I  say  no  more  about  it,"  exclaimed  Louis 
XIV. 

"Have  I  at  least  convinced  you,  sire?"  placing  his  hand 
upon  that  of  the  young  kin^. 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  71 

"Perfectly." 

"If  there  be  anything  else,  ask  it,  sire;  I  shall  be  most 
nappy  to  grant  it  to  you,  having  refused  this." 

"Anything  else,  monsieur?" 

"Why,  yes;  am  I  not  body  and  soul  devoted  to  your 
majesty?  Bold!  Bernouin!  lights  and  guards  for  his 
majesty!     His  majesty  is  returning  to  his  own  chamber." 

"Not  yet,  monsieur;  since  you  place  your  good-will  at 
my  disposal,  I  will  take  advantage  of  it." 

"For  yourself,  sire?"  asked  the  cardinal,  hoping  that  his 
niece  was  at  length  about  to  be  named. 

"No,  monsieur,  not  for  myself,"  replied  Louis,  "but  still 
for  my  brother  Charles." 

The  brow  of  Mazarin  again  became  clouded,  and  he 
grumbled  a  few  words  that  the  king  could  not  catch. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

mazaein's   policy. 

Instead  of  the  hesitation  with  which  he  had  accosted 
the  cardinal  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before,  there  might  be 
read  in  the  eyes  of  the  young  king  that  will  against  which 
a  struggle  might  be  maintained,  and  which  might  be 
crushed  by  its  own  impotence,  but  which,  at  least,  would 
preserve,  like  a  wound  in  the  depth  of  the  heart,  the  re- 
membrance of  its  defeat. 

"This  time,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  we  have  to  do  with  a 
thing  much  more  easy  to  be  found  than  a  million." 

"Do  you  think  so,  sire?"  said  Mazarin,  looking  at  the 
king  with  that  penetrating  eye  which  was  accustomed  to 
read  to  the  bottom  of  hearts. 

"Yes,  I  think  so;  and  when  you  know  the  object  of  my 
request " 

"And  do  you  think  I  do  not  know  it,  sire?" 

"You  know  what  remains  for  me  to  say  to  you?" 

"Listen,  sire;  these  are  King  Charles'  own  words " 

"Oh,  impossible!" 

"Listen.  'And  if  that  miser,  that  beggarly  Italian,'  said 
he " 

"Monsieur  le  Cardinal!" 

"That  is  the  sense,  if  not  the  words.  Eh!  Good  heavens! 
I  wish  him  no  ill  on  that  account;  every  one  sees  with  his 
passions.    He  said  to  you:  'If  that  vile  Italian  refuses  the 


72  THE  VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELOXNE. 

million  we  ask  of  him,  sire,  if  we  are  forced,  for  want  of 
money,  to  renounce  diplomacy,  well,  then,  we  will  ask  him 
to  grant  us  five  hundred  gentlemen.'  " 

The  king  started,  for  the  cardinal  was  only  mistaken  in 
the  number. 

"Is  not  that  it,  sire?"  cried  the  minister, with  a  triumphant 
accent.  "And  then  he  added  some  fine  words;  he  said,  'I 
have  friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  channel,  and  these 
friends  only  want  a  leader  and  a  banner.  When  they  shall 
see  me,  when  they  shall  behold  the  banner  of  France,  they 
will  rally  round  me,  for  they  will  comprehend  that  I  have 
your  support.  The  colors  of  the  French  uniform  will  be 
worth  as  much  to  me  as  the  million  Monsieur  de  Mazarin 
refuses  us/  for  he  was  pretty  well  assured  I  should  refuse 
him  that  million.  'I  shall  conquer  with  these  five  hundred 
gentlemen,  sire,  and  all  the  honors  will  be  yours.'  Now,  that 
is  what  he  said,  or  to  that  purpose,  was  it  not?  turning 
those  plain  words  into  brilliant  metaphors  and  pompous 
images,  for  they  are  fine  talkers,  that  family!  The  father 
talked,  even  on  the  scaffold." 

The  perspiration  of  shame  stood  upon  the  brow  of  Louis. 
He  felt  that  it  was  inconsistent  with  his  dignity  to  hear  his 
brother  thus  insulted,  but  he  did  not  yet  knoAv  how  to  act 
with  him  before  whom  he  had  seen  every  one  blench,  even 
his  mother.     At  last  he  made  an  effort. 

"But,"  said  he,  "Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  it  is  not  five 
hundred  men,  it  is  only  two  hundred." 

"Well,  but  you  see  I  guessed  what  he  wanted." 

"I  never  denied,  monsie'ir,  that  you  had  a  penetrating 
eye,  and  that  was  why  1  thought  you  would  not  refuse  my 
brother  Charles  a  thing  so  simple  and  so  easy  to  grant  him 
as  what  I  ask  of  you  in  his  name,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  or 
rather  in  my  own." 

"Sire,"  said  Mazarin,  "I  have  studied  policy  thirty  years] 
first,  under  the  auspices  of  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  de  Eiche- 
lieu;  and  since,  alone.  This  policy  has  not  always  been 
over  honest,  it  must  be  allowed,  but  it  has  never  been  un- 
skillful. Now  that  which  is  proposed  to  your  majesty  is 
dishonest  and  unskillful  at  the  same  time." 

"Dishonest,  monsieur!" 

"Sire,  you  entered  into  a  treaty  with  Cromwell." 

"Yes,  and  in  that  very  treaty  Cromwell  signed  his  name 
above  mine." 

"Why  did  you  sign  yours  so  low  down,  sire?  Cromwell 
found  a  good  place,  and  he  took  itj  that  was  his  custom 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOKKE.  73 

[  return,  then,  to  Monsieur  Cromwell.  You  have  a  treaty 
with  him,  that  is  to  say,  with  England,  since  when  you 
signed  that  treaty  Monsieur  Cromwell  was  England." 

"Monsieur  Cromwell  is  dead." 

"Do  you  think  so,  sire?" 

"No  doubt  he  is,  since  his  son  Richard  has  succeeded 
him,  and  has  abdicated." 

"Yes,  that  is  it  exactly.  Richard  inherited  after  the> 
death  of  his  father,  and  England  at  the  abdication  of 
Richard.  The  treaty  formed  part  of  the  inheritance, 
whether  in  the  hands  of  Monsieur  Richard  or  in  the  hands 
of  England.  The  treaty  is,  then,  still  as  good,  as  valid  as 
ever.  Why  should  you  evade  it,  sire?  What  is  changed? 
Charles  wants  that  to-day  which  we  were  not  willing  to 
grant  him  ten  years  ago;  but  that  was  foreseen  and  provided 
against.  You  are  the  ally  of  England,  sire,  and  not  of 
Charles  II.  It  was  doubtless  wrong,  in  a  family  point  of 
view,  to  sign  a  treaty  with  a  man  who  had  cut  off  the  head 
of  the  brother-in-law  of  the  king,  your  father,  and  to  con- 
tract an  alliance  with  a  parliament  which  they  call  yonder 
the  Rump  Parliament;  it  was  unbecoming,  I  acknowledge, 
but  it  was  not  unskillful  in  a  political  point  of  view,  since, 
thanks  to  that  treaty,  I  saved  your  majesty,  then  a  minor, 
the  trouble  and  danger  of  a  foreign  war,  which  the  Fronde 
— you  remember  the  Fronde,  sire?" — the  young  king  hung 
down  his  head — "which  the  Fronde  might  have  fatally  com- 
plicated. And  thus  I  prove  to  your  majesty  that  to  change 
our  plan  now,  without  warning  our  allies,  would  be  at  once 
unskillful  and  dishonest.  We  should  make  war  with  the 
aggression  on  our  side;  we  should  make  it,  deserving  to 
have  it  made  against  us;  and  we  should  have  the  appearance 
of  fearing  it  while  provoking  it,  for  a  permission  granted 
to  five  hundred  men,  to  two  hundred  men,  to  fifty  men,  to 
ten  men,  is  still  a  permission.  One  Frenchman,  that  is  the 
nation;  one  uniform,  that  is  the  army.  Suppose,  sire,  for 
example,  that,  sooner  or  later,  you  should  have  war  with 
Holland,  which,  sooner  or  later,  will  certainly  happen;  or 
with  Spain,  which  will  perhaps  ensue  if  your  marriage  fails" 
— Mazarin  stole  a  furtive  glance  at  the  king — "and  there 
are  a  thousand  causes  that  might  still  make  your  marriage 
fail — well,  would  you  approve  of  England's  sending  to  the 
United  Provinces  or  to  Spain  a  regiment,  a  company,  a 
squadron  even,  of  English  gentlemen?  Would  you  think 
that  they  kept  within  the  limits  of  their  treaty  of  alliance?" 

Louis  listened;  it  seemed  so  strange  to  him  that  Ma*arin 


?4  THE  VTCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONKE. 

should  invoke  good  faith,  and  he  the  author  of  so  many 
political  tricks,  called  Mazarinades.  "And  yet,"  said  the 
king,  "without  any  manifest  authorization,  I  cannot  pre- 
vent gentlemen  of  my  states  from  passing  over  into  Eng- 
land, if  such  should  be  their  good  pleasure." 

"You  ought  to  compel  them  to  return,  sire,  or  at  least 
protest  against  their  presence  as  enemies  in  a  country  allied 
with  you." 

"Well,  but  come,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  you  who  are  so 
profound  a  genius,  try  if  you  cannot  find  means  to  assist 
this  poor  king,  without  compromising  ourselves." 

"And  that  is  exactly  what  I  am  not  willing  to  do,  my 
dear  sire,"  said  Mazarin.  "If  England  were  to  act  exactly 
according  to  my  wishes,  she  could  not  act  better  than  she 
does;  if  I  directed  the  policy  of  England  from  this  place, 
I  should  not  direct  it  otherwise.  Governed  as  she  is  gov- 
erned, England  is  an  eternal  nest  of  contention  for  all 
Europe.  Holland  protects  Charles  II.,  let  Holland  do  so; 
they  will  become  angry,  they  will  fight.  They  are  the  only 
two  maritime  powers.  Let  them  destroy  each  other's  navy; 
we  can  construct  ours  with  the  wreck  of  their  vessels,  and 
shall  save  our  money  to  buy  nails  with." 

"Oh,  how  paltry  and  mean  all  that  is  you  tell  me,  Mon- 
sieur le  Cardinal!" 

"Yes,  but  nevertheless  it  is  true,  sire;  you  must  confess 
that.  There  is  this,  still  further.  Suppose  I  admit,  for  a 
moment,  the  possibility  of  breaking  your  word,  and  evad- 
ing the  treaty — such  a  thing  sometimes  happens,  but  that 
is  when  some  great  interest  is  to  be  promoted  by  it,  or 
when  the  treaty  is  found  to  be  too  troublesome — well,  you 
will  authorize  the  engagement  asked  of  you:  France — her 
banner,  which  is  the  same  thing — will  cross  the  Straits  and 
will  fight;  France  will  be  conquered." 

"Why  so?" 

"Ma  foil  there  is  a  pretty  general  for  us  to  fight  under — 
chis  Charles  II. !     Worcester  gave  us  good  proofs  of  that." 

"But  he  will  no  longer  have  to  deal  with  Cromwell, 
monsieur." 

"But  he  will  have  to  deal  with  Monk,  who  is  quite  as 
dangerous.  The  brave  brewer  of  whom  we  are  speaking, 
was  a  visionary;  he  had  moments  of  exaltation,  faintings, 
during  which  he  ran  over  or  split  like  a  too  full  cask;  and 
from  the  chinks  there  always  escaped  some  drops  of  his 
thoughts,  and  by  the  sample  the  whole  of  his  thought  was 
to  be  made  out.     Cromwell  has  thus  allowed  us  more  than 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BBAGELONNE.  75 

ten  times  to  penetrate  into  his  very  soul,  when  one  would 
have  conceived  that  soul  to  be  enveloped  in  triple  brass,  as 
Horace  has  it.  But  Monk!  Oh,  sire!  God  defend  you 
from  ever  having  anything  politically  to  transact  with 
Monk.  It  is  he  who  has  given  me,  in  one  year,  all  the  gray 
hairs  I  have.  Monk  is  no  fanatic;  unfortunately  he  is  a 
politician;  he  does  not  split,  he  keeps  close  together.  For 
ten  years  he  has  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon  one  object,  and 
nobody  has  yet  been  able  to  ascertain  what.  Every  morn- 
ing, as  Louis  XL  advised,  he  burns  his  nightcap.  There- 
fore, on  the  day  when  this  plan,  slowly  and  solitarily 
ripened,  shall  break  forth,  it  will  break  forth  with  all  con- 
ditions of  the  success  which  always  accompany  an  unfore- 
seen event.  That  is  Monk,  sire,  of  whom,  perhaps,  you 
have  never  heard — of  whom,  perhaps,  you  did  not  know  the 
name  even,  before  your  brother,  Charles  II.,  who  knows 
what  he  is,  pronounced  it  before  you.  He  is  a  wonder  of 
depth  and  tenacity,  the  two  only  things  against  which  in- 
telligence and  ardor  are  blunted.  Sire,  I  had  ardor  when  I 
was  young;  I  always  had  intelligence.  I  may  safely  boast 
of  it,  because  I  am  reproached  with  it.  I  have  done  very 
well  with  these  two  qualities,  since,  from  the  son  of  a 
fisherman  of  Piscina,  I  am  become  first  minister  of  the 
King  of  France;  and  in  that  quality  your  majesty  will  per- 
haps acknowledge  I  have  rendered  some  service  to  the 
throne  of  your  majesty.  Well,  sire,  if  I  had  met  with 
Monk  on  my  way,  instead  of  Monsieur  de  Beaufort,  Mon- 
sieur de  Ketz,  or  Monsieur  le  Prince — well,  we  should  have 
been  ruined.  If  you  engage  yourself  rashly,  sire,  you  will 
fall  into  the  talons  of  this  politic  soldier.  The  cask  of 
Monk,  sire,  is  an  iron  coffer,  in  the  recesses  of  which  he 
shuts  up  his  thoughts,  and  no  one  has  the  key  of  it. 
Therefore,  near  him,  or  rather  before  him,  I  bow,  sire,  for 
I  have  nothing  but  a  velvet  cap." 

"What  do  you  think  Monk  wishes  to  do,  then?" 
"Eh!  sire,  if  I  knew  that,  I  would  not  tell  you  to  distrust 
him,  for  I  should  be  stronger  than  he;  but  with  him  I  am 
afraid  to  guess — you  understand  my  word? — for  if  I  thought 
I  had  guessed,  I  should  stop  at  an  idea,  and,  in  spite  of  my- 
self, should  pursue  that  idea.  Since  that  man  has  been  in 
power  yonder,  I  am  like  those  damned  souls  in  Dante,  whose 
neck  Satan  has  twisted,  and  who  walk  forward,  looking 
behind  them.  I  am  traveling  toward  Madrid,  but  I  never 
lose  sight  of  London.  To  guess,  with  that  devil  of  a  man, 
is  to  deceive  one's  self,  and  to  deceive  one's  self  is  to  ruin 


7(5  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

one's  self.  God  keep  me  from  ever  seeking  to  guess  what 
he  aims  at;  I  confine  myself  to  watching  what  he  does,  and 
that  is  pretty  well  enough.  Now,  I  believe — you  observe 
the  extent  of  the  word  1  believe? — / believe,  with  respect 
to  Monk,  ties  one  to  nothing — I  believe  that  he  has  a  strong 
inclination  to  succeed  Cromwell.  Your  Charles  II.  has 
already  caused  proposals  to  be  made  to  him  by  ten  persons- 
he  has  satisfied  himself  with  driving  these  ten  meddlers  from 
his  presence,  without  saying  anything  to  them  but,  'Be- 
gone, or  I  will  have  you  hung.'  That  man  is  a  sepulcher! 
At  this  moment  Monk  is  affecting  devotion  to  the  Rump 
Parliament;  of  this  devotion,  observe,  I  am  not  the  dupe. 
Monk  has  no  wish  to  be  assassinated — an  assassination 
would  stop  him  in  the  midst  of  his  operations;  and  his  work 
must  be  accomplished;  so  I  believe — but  do  not  believe 
what  Ibelieve,sire;  for  I  say  I  believe  from  habit — I  believe 
that  Monk  is  keeping  well  with  the  parliament  till  the  day 
comes  for  his  dispersing  it.  You  are  asked  for  swords,  but 
they  are  to  fight  against  Monk.  God  preserve  you  from 
fighting  against  Monk,  sire;  for  Monk  would  beat  us,  and 
I  should  never  console  myself  after  being  beaten  by  Monk. 
I  should  say  to  myself,  Monk  has  foreseen  that  victory  ten 
years.  For  God's  sake,  sire,  out  of  friendship  for  you,  if 
not  out  of  consideration  for  himself,  let  Charles  II.  keep 
quiet.  Your  majesty  will  make  him  a  little  revenue  here; 
you  will  give  him  one  of  your  chateaus.  Yes,  yes — wait 
awhile.  But  I  forgot  the  treaty — that  famous  treaty  of 
which  we  were  just  now  speaking.  Yrour  majesty  has  not 
even  the  right  to  give  him  a  chateau." 

"How  is  that?" 

"Yes,  yes;  your  majesty  is  bound  not  to  afford  hospitality 
to  King  Charles,  and  to  compel  him  to  leave  France  even. 
It  was  on  this  account  we  forced  him  to  quit  it;  and  yet 
here  he  is  returned  again.  Sire,  I  hope  you  will  give  your 
brother  to  understand  that  he  cannot  remain  with  us;  that 
it  is  impossible  he  should  be  allowed  to  compromise  us;  or 
I  myself " 

"Enough,  monsieur,"  said  Louis  XIV.,  rising.  "For  to  re- 
fuse me  a  million,  perhaps,  you  have  the  right;  your  millions 
are  your  own.  To  refuse  me  two  hundred  gentlemen,  yon 
have  still  further  the  right;  for  you  are  first  minister,  and 
you  have,  in  the  eyes  of  France,  the  responsibility  of  peace 
and  war.  But  that  you  should  pretend  to  prevent  me.  who 
am  king,  affording  hospitality  to  the  grandson  of  Henry 
IV,y  to  my  cousin-german^  to  the  companion  of  my  child- 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOtfttE.  11 

hood — there  your  power  stops,  and  there  commences  my 
Will." 

"Sire,"  said  Mazarin,  delighted  at  being  let  off  so  cheaply, 
and  who  had,  besides,  only  fought  so  earnestly  to  arrive  at 
that,  ''sire,  I  will  always  bend  before  the  will  of  my  king. 
Let  my  king,  then,  keep  near  him,  or  in  one  of  hischateaus, 
the  King  of  England;  let  Mazarin  know  it,  but  let  not  the 
minister  know  it." 

"Good-night,  monsieur,"  said  Louis  XIV.;  "I  go  away  in 
despair." 

"But  convinced,  and  that  is  all  I  desire,  sire,"  replied 
Mazarin. 

The  king  made  no  answer,  and  retired  quite  pensive,  con- 
vinced, not  of  all  Mazarin  had  told  him,  but  of  one  thing 
which  he  took  care  not  to  mention  to  him;  and  that  was, 
that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  study  seriously  both  his 
own  affairs  and  those  of  Europe,  for  he  found  them  very 
difficult  and  very  obscure.  Louis  found  the  King  of  Eng- 
land seated  in  the  same  place  that  he  had  left  him  in.  On 
perceiving  him,  the  English  prince  arose;  but  at  the  first 
glance  he  saw  discouragement  in  dark  letters  upon  his 
cousin's  brow.  Then,  speaking  first,  as  if  to  facilitate  the 
painful  avowal  that  Louis  had  to  make  to  him: 

"Whatever  may  it  be,"  said  he,  "I  shall  never  forget  all 
the  kindness,  all  the  friendship,  you  have  exhibited  toward 
me." 

"Alas!"  replied  Louis,  in  a  melancholy  tone,  "only 
sterile  good-will,  my  brother." 

Charles  II.  became  extremely  pale;  he  passed  his  cold 
hand  over  his  brow,  and  struggled  for  a  few  instants  against 
a  faintness  that  made  him  tremble.  "I  understand,"  said 
he  at  last;  "no  more  hope!" 

Louis  seized  the  hand  of  Charles  II.  "Wait,  my  brother," 
said  he;  "precipitate  nothing;  everything  may  change;  it 
is  extreme  resolutions  that  ruin  causes;  add  another  year 
of  trial,  I  implore  you,  to  the  years  you  have  already  under- 
gone. You  have,  to  induce  you  to  act  now  rather  than  at 
another  time,  neither  occasion  nor  opportunity.  Come 
with  me,  my  brother;  I  will  give  you  one  of  my  residences, 
whichever  you  prefer,  to  inhabit.  I,  with  you,  will  keep 
my  eye  upon  events;  we  will  prepare.  Come,  then,  my 
jrother,  have  courage!" 

Charles  II.  withdrew  his  hand  from  that  of  the  king,  and 
drawing  hack,  to  salute  him  with  more  ceremony,  "With 
all  my  heart,  thanks!"  replied  he,  "sire;  but  J  have  prayed 


78  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONHE. 

without  success  to  the  greatest  king  on  earth;  now  1  will 
go  and  ask  a  miracle  of  God."  And  he  went  out  without 
being  willing  to  hear  any  more,  his  head  carried  loftily,  his 
hand  trembling,  with  a  painful  contraction  of  his  noble 
countenance,  and  that  profound  gloom  which,  finding  no 
more  hope  in  the  world  of  men,  appeared  to  go  beyond  it, 
and  ask  it  in  worlds  unknown.  The  officer  of  musketeers, 
on  seeing  him  pass  by  thus  pale,  bowed  almost  to  his  knees 
as  he  saluted  him.  He  then  took  a  flambeau,  called  two 
musketeers,  and  descended  the  deserted  staircase  with  the 
unfortunate  king,  holding  in  his  left  hand  his  hat,  the 
plume  of  which  swept  the  steps.  Arrived  at  the  door,  the 
musketeer  asked  the  king  which  way  he  was  going,  that  he 
might  direct  the  musketeers. 

"Monsieur,"  replied  Charles  II.,  in  a  subdued  voice, 
"you  wb.o  have  known  my  father,  say,  did  you  ever  pray 
fqr  him?  If  you  have  done  so,  do  not  forget  me  in  your 
prayers.  Now,  I  am  going  alone,  and  beg  of  you  not  to 
accompany  me,  or  have  me  accompanied  further." 

The  officer  bowed,  and  sent  away  the  musketeers  into  the 
interior  of  the  palace.  But  he  himself  remained  an  instant 
under  the  porch  to  watch  the  departure  of  Charles  II.,  till 
he  was  lost  in  the  turning  of  the  next  street.  "To  him,  as 
to  his  father  formerly,"  murmured  he,  "Athos,  if  he  were 
here,  would  say  with  reason,  'Salutation  to  fallen  majesty!' " 
Then,  reascending  the  staircase:  "Oh!  the  vile  service  that 
I  follow!"  said  he  at  every  step.  "Oh!  my  pitiful  master! 
Life  thus  carried  on  is  no  longer  tolerable,  and  it  is  at 
length  time  that  I  do  something!  No  more  generosity,  no 
more  energy!  The  master  has  succeeded,  the  pupil  is 
starved  forever.  Mordioux  !  I  will  not  resist.  Come,  you 
men,"  continued  he,  entering  the  antechamber,  "why  are 
you  all  looking  at  me  so?  Extinguish  these  flambeaus,  and 
return  to  your  posts.  Ah!  you  were  guarding  me?  Yes, 
you  watch  over  me,  do  you  not,  worthy  fellows?  Brave 
fools!  I  am  not  the  Due  de  Guise.  Be  gone!  They  will 
not  assassinate  me  in  the  little  colander.  Besides,"  added 
he,  in  a  low  voice,  "that  would  be  a  resolution,  and  no 
resolutions  have  been  formed  since  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  de 
Richelieu  died.  Now,  with  all  his  faults,  that  was  a  man! 
It  is  decided;  to-morrow  I  will  throw  my  cassock  to  the 
nettles." 

Then,  reflecting:  "No,"  said  he,  "not  yet!  I  have  om- 
great  trial  to  make,  and  I  will  make  it;  but  that,  and  ) 
swear  it,  shall  be  the  last,  mordioux  /" 


THE  VICOMTE   BE   BRAGELONNE.  79 

He  had  not  finished  speaking,  when  a  voice  issued  from 
the  king's  chamber.  "Monsieur  le  Lieutenant!'*  said  this 
voice. 

"Here  I  am,"  replied  he. 

"The  king  desires  to  speak  to  you." 

"Humph!"  said  the  lieutenant;  "perhaps  this  is  for  what 
I  was  thinking  about."  And  he  went  into  the  king's  apart- 
ment. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE   KING   AND  THE   LIEUTENANT. 

As  soon  as  the  king  saw  the  officer  enter,  he  dismissed 
his  valet  de  chambre  and  his  gentlemen.  "Who  is  on  duty 
to-morrow,  monsieur?"  asked  he. 

The  lieutenant  bowed  his  head  with  military  politeness, 
and  replied,  "I  am,  sire." 

"How!  you  still?" 

"I  always,  sire." 

"How  can  that  be,  monsieur?" 

"Sire,  when  traveling,  the  musketeers  supply  all  the  posts 
of  your  majesty's  household;  that  is  to  say,  yours,  her 
majesty  the  queen's,  and  Monsieur  le  Cardinal's,  the  latter 
of  whom  borrows  of  the  king  the  best  part,  or  rather  the 
most  numerous  part,  of  the  royal  guard." 

"But  in  the  interims?" 

"There  are  no  interims,  sire,  but  for  twenty  or  thirty 
men  who  rest  out  of  a  hundred  and  twenty.  At  the  Louvre 
it  is  very  different,  and  if  I  were  at  the  Louvre  I  should 
rest  upon  my  brigadier;  but  when  traveling,  sire,  no  one 
knows  what  may  happen,  and  I  prefer  doing  my  duty 
myself." 

"Then  you  are  on  guard  every  day?" 

"And  every  night.     Yes,  sire." 

"Monsieur,  I  cannot  allow  that — I  will  have  you  rest.'' 

"That  is  very  kind,  sire;  but  I  will  not." 

"What  do  you  say?"  said  the  king,  who  did  not  at  first 
comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  this  reply. 

"I  say,  sire,  that  I  will  not  expose  myself  to  the  chance 
of  a  fault.  If  the  devil  had  an  ill  turn  to  play  me,  you 
understand,  sire,  as  he  knows  the  man  with  whom  he  has 
lo  deal,  he  would  choose  the  moment  when  I  should  not  be 


80  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOKNE. 

there.  My  duty  and  the  peace  of  my  conscience  before 
everything,  sire." 

"But  such  duty  will  kill  you,  monsieur." 

"Eh!  sire,  I  have  performed  it  thirty  years,  and  in  all 
France  and  Navarre  there  is  not  a  man  in  better  health 
than  I  am.  Moreover,  I  entreat  you,  sire,  not  to  trouble 
yourself  about  me.  That  would  appear  very  strange  to  me, 
seeing  that  I  am  not  accustomed  to  it." 

The  king  cut  short  the  conversation  by  a  fresh  question. 
"Shall  you  be  here,  then,  to-morrow  morning?" 

"As  at  present?  yes,  sire." 

The  king  walked  several  times  up  and  down  his  cnamber; 
it  was  very  plain  that  he  burned  with  a  desire  to  speak,  but 
that  he  was  restrained  by  some  fear  or  other.  The  lieu- 
tenant, standing  motionless,  hat  in  hand,  leaning  on  his 
hip,  watched  him  making  these  evolutions,  and,  while  look- 
ing at  him,  grumbled  to  himself,  biting  his  mustache: 

"For  a  demi-pistole,  he  has  not  resolution  enough! 
Parole  d'honneur!  I  would  lay  a  wager  he  does  not  speak 
at  all!" 

The  king  continued  to  walk  about,  casting  from  time  to 
time  a  side  glance  at  the  lieutenant.  "He  is  the  very  spirit 
of  his  father,"  continued  the  latter,  in  his  secret  monologue; 
"he  is  at  once  proud,  avaricious,  and  timid.  The  devil 
take  his  master,  say  I." 

The  king  stopped.     "Lieutenant,"  said  he. 

"I  am  here,  sire." 

"Why  did  you  cry  out  this  evening,  down  below  in  the 
salons:  'On  the  king's  service!    His  majesty's  musketeers!' " 

"Because  you  gave  me  the  order,  sire." 

"I?" 

"Yourself." 

"Indeed,  I  did  not  say  a  word,  monsieur." 

"Sire,  an  order  is  given  by  a  sign,  by  a  gesture,  by  a 
glance,  as  intelligibly,  as  freely,  and  as  clearly  as  by  word 
of  mouth.  A  servant  who  has  nothing  but  ears  is  not  half 
a  good  servant." 

"Your  eyes  are  very  penetrating,  then,  monsieur?" 

"How  is  that,  sire?" 

"Because  they  see  what  is  not." 

"My  eyes  are  good,  though,  sire,  although  they  have 
served  their  master  long  and  much;  when  they  have  any- 
thing to  see,  they  seldom  miss  the  opportunity.  Now,  this 
evening,  they  saw  that  your  majesty  colored  with  endeavor- 
ing to  conceal   your  inclination  to  gape;  that  your  majesty 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  81 

iooked  with  eloquent  supplications,  first  at  his  eminence, 
and  then  at  her  majesty  the  queen-mother,  and  at  length 
to  the  door  of  the  entrance;  and  they  so  thoroughly  re- 
marked all  I  have  said,  that,  they  saw  your  majesty's  lips 
articulate  these  words:  'Who  will  get  me  out  of  this?'  " 

"Monsieur!" 

"Or  something  to  this  effect,  sire:  'My  musketeers V  I 
could  then  no  longer  hesitate.  That  look  was  for  me — the 
order  was  for  me.  I  cried  out  instantly,  'His  majesty's 
musketeers!'  And,  besides,  that  is  proved  to  be  true,  sire, 
not  only  by  your  majesty's  not  saying  I  was  wrong,,  but  bj 
proving  I  was  right  by  going  out  at  once." 

The  king  turned  away  to  smile;  then,  after  a  few  seconds, 
he  again  fixed  his  limpid  eye  upon  that  countenance,  so 
intelligent,  so  bold,  and  so  firm,  that  it  might  have  been 
said  to  be  the  proud  and  energetic  profile  of  the  eagle  in 
face  of  the  sun.  "That  is  all  very  well,"  said  he,  after  a 
short  silence,  during  which  he  endeavored,  in  vain,  to  look 
his  officer  down. 

But,  seeing  the  king  said  no  more,  the  latter  pirouetted 
on  his  heels,  and  made  three  steps  toward  the  door,  mut- 
tering, "He  will  not  speak!     Mordioux  !  he  will  not  speak!" 

"Thank  you,  monsieur,"  said  the  king,  at  last. 

"Humph!"  continued  the  lieutenant;  "there  only  wanted 
that.  Blamed  for  having  been  less  of  a  fool  than  another 
might  have  been."  And  he  gained  the  door,  allowing  his 
spurs  to  jingle  in  true  military  style.  But  when  he  was 
upon  the  threshold,  feeling  that  the  king's  desire  drew  him 
back,  he  returned. 

"Has  your  majesty  told  me  all?"  asked  he,  in  a  tone  we 
cannot  describe,  but  which,  without  appearing  to  solicit  the 
royal  confidence,  contained  so  much  persuasive  frankness, 
that  the  king  immediately  replied: 

"Yes;  but  draw  near,  monsieur." 

"Now  then,"  murmured  the  officer,  "he  is  coming  to  it 
at  last." 

"Listen  to  me." 

"I  will  not  lose  a  word,  sire." 

"You  will  mount  on  horseback  to-morrow,  at  about  half- 
past  four  in  the  morning,  and  you  will  have  a  horse  saddled 
for  me." 

"From  your  majesty's  stables?" 

"No;  one  of  your  musketeers'  horses." 

"Very  well,  sire.     Is  that  all?" 
i    '\4fid  you.  will  accompany  Hie," 


82  THE  VICOafTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Alone?" 

"Alone." 

"Shall  I  come  to  seek  your  majesty,  or  shall  I  wait?" 

"You  will  wait  for  me." 

"Where,  sire?" 

"At  the  little  park  gate." 

The  lieutenant  bowed,  understanding  that  the  king  h*(1 
told  him  all  he  had  to  say.  In  fact,  the  king  dismissed  him 
with  a  gracious  wave  of  the  hand.  The  officer  left  the 
chamber  of  the  king,  and  returned  to  place  himself  philo- 
sophically in  his  fauteuil,  where,  far  from  sleeping,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  considering  how  late  it  was,  he  begar 
to  reflect  more  profoundly  than  he  had  ever  reflected  before 
The  result  of  these  reflections  was  not  so  melancholy  as  the 
preceding  ones  had  been. 

"Come,  he  has  begun,"  said  he.  "Love  urges  him  on, 
and  he  goes  forward — he  goes  forward!  The  king  is  nobody 
in  his  own  palace;  but  the  man  perhaps  may  prove  to  be 
worth  something.  Well,  we  shall  see  to-morrow  morning. 
Oh!  oh!"  cried  he,  all  at  once  starting  up,  "that  is  a  gigan- 
tic idea,  mordioux!  and  perhaps  my  fortune  depends,  at 
least,  upon  that  idea!"  After  this  exclamation,  the  officer 
arose  and  marched,  with  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his 
justau-corps,  about  the  immense  antechamber  that  served 
him  as  an  apartment.  The  wax-light  flamed  furiously 
under  the  effects  of  a  fresh  breeze  which  stole  in  through 
the  chinks  of  the  door  and  the  window,  and  cut  the  salle 
diagonally.  It  threw  out  a  reddish,  unequal  light,  some- 
times brilliant,  sometimes  dull,  and  the  tall  shadow  of  the 
lieutenant  was  seen  marching  on  the  wall,  in  profile,  like  a 
figure  by  Callot,  with  his  long  sword  and  feathered  cap. 

"Certes!"  said  he,  "I  am  mistaken  if  Mazarin  is  not  lay- 
ing a  snare  for  this  amorous  boy.  Mazarin,  this  evening, 
gave  an  address,  and  made  an  appointment  as  complacently 
hs  Monsieur  Dangeau  could  have  done — I  heard  him,  and 
.'.  know  the  meaning  of  his  words.  'To-morrow  morning,5 
said  lie,  'they  will  pass  opposite  the  bridge  of  Blois.5 
Mordioux!  that  is  clear  enough,  and  particularly  for  a 
lover.  That  is  the  cause  of  this  embarrassment;  that  is  the 
cause  of  this  hesitation;  that  is  the  cause  of  this  order: 
e Monsieur,  the  lieutenant  of  my  musketeers,  be  on  horse- 
back to-morrow  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.'  Which  is 
as  clear  as  if  he  had  said,  'Monsieur,  the  lieutenant  of  my 
musketeers,  to-morrow,  at  four,  at  the  bridge  of  Blois,  do 
you  understand?'     Here   is  a  state  secret,  then,  which  I, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  83 

humble  as  I  am,  have  in  my  possession,  while  it  is  in  action. 
And  how  do  I  get  it?  Because  I  have  good  eyes,  as  his 
majesty  just  now  said.  They  say  he  loves  this  little  Italian 
doll  furiously.  They  say  he  threw  himself  at  his  mother's 
feet,  to  ask  her  to  allow  him  to  marjy  her.  They  say  the 
queen  went  so  far  as  to  consult  the  court  of  Rome,  whether 
such  a  marriage,  contracted  against  her  will,  would  be  valid. 
Oh,  if  I  were  but  twenty-five!  If  I  had  by  my  side  those  I 
no  longer  have!  If  I  did  not  despise  the  whole  world  most 
profoundly,  I  would  imbroil  Mazarin  with  the  queen- 
mother,  France  with  Spain,  and  I  would  make  a  queen 
after  my  own  fashion.  But  let  that  pass."  And  the  lieu- 
tenant snapped  his  fingers  in  disdain. 

"This  miserable  Italian — this  poor  creature — this  sordid 
wretch — who  has  just  refused  the  King  of  England  a  mil- 
lion, would  not  perhaps  give  me  a  thousand  pistoles  for  the 
news  I  could  carry  him.  Mordioux!  I  am  falling  into 
second  childhood;  I  am  becoming  stupid  indeed!  The  idea 
of  Mazarin  giving  anything!  ha!  ha!  ha!"  and  he  laughed 
in  a  subdued  voice. 

"Well,  let  us  go  to  sleep — let  us  go  to  sleep;  and  the 
sooner  the  better.  My  mind  is  fatigued  with  my  evening's 
work,  and  will  see  things  to-morrow  more  clearly  than 
to-day." 

And  upon  this  recommendation,  made  to  himself,  he 
folded  his  cloak  around  him,  looking  with  contempt  upoD 
his  royal  neighbor.  Five  minutes  after  this  he  was  asleep 
with  his  hands  clinched  and  his  lips  apart,  allowing  to 
escape,  not  his  secret,  but  a  sonorous  sound,  which  rose  and 
spread  freely  beneath  the  majestic  roof  of  the  antechamber. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MARY    DE     MANCINI. 

The  sun  had  scarcely  enlightened  the  majestic  trees  01 
the  park  and  the  lofty  turrets  of  the  castle  with  its  first, 
beams,  when  the  young  king,  who  had  been  awake  more 
than  two  hours,  possessed  by  the  sleeplessness  of  love, 
opened  his  shutters  himself,  and  cast  an  inquiring  look  into 
the  courts  of  the  sleeping  palace.  He  saw  that  it  was  the 
hour  agreed  upon;  the  great  court  clock  pointed  to  a 
quarter  past  four.  He  did  not  disturb  his  valet  de  chain* 
ire,  who  was  sleeping  profoundly  at    some  distance;  he 


84  THE  YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

dressed  himself,  and  the  valet,  in  a  great  fright,  sprung  upt 
thinking  he  had  been  deficient  in  his  duty;  but  the  king 
6ent  him  back  again,  commanding  him  to  preserve  the  most 
absolute  silence.  He  then  descended  the  little  staircase, 
went  out  at  a  lateral  door,  and  perceived  at  the  end  of 
the  wall  a  mounted  horseman,  holding  another  horse  by  the 
bridle.  This  horseman  was  not  to  be  recognized  in  his 
cloak  and  slouched  hat.  As  to  the  horse,  saddled  like  that 
of  a  rich  citizen,  it  had  nothing  remarkable  about  it  to  the 
most  experienced  eye.  Louis  took  the  bridle;  the  officer 
held  the  stirrup  without  dismounting,  and  asked  his 
majesty's  orders  in  a  low  voice. 

"Follow  me,"  replied  the  king. 

The  officer  put  his  horse  to  the  trot,  behind  that  of  his 
master,  and  they  descended  the  hill  toward  the  bridge. 
When  arrived  at  the  other  side  of  the  Loire: 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  "you  will  please  to  ride  on 
till  you  see  a  carriage  coming;  then  return  and  inform  me. 
I  will  wait  here." 

"Will  your  majesty  deign  to  give  me  some  description  of 
the  carriage  I  am  charged  to  discover?" 

"A  carriage  in  which  you  will  see  two  ladies,  and  proba- 
bly their  attendants  likewise." 

"Sire,  I  should  not  wish  to  make  a  mistake;  is  there  no 
other  sign  by  which  I  may  know  this  carriage?" 

"It  will  bear,  in  all  probability,  the  arms  of  Monsieur  le 
Cardinal." 

'That  is  sufficient,  sire,"  replied  the  officer,  fully  in- 
structed in  the  object  of  his  search.  He  put  his  horse  to 
the  trot,  and  rode  sharply  on  in  the  direction  pointed  out 
by  the  king.  But  he  had  scarcely  gone  five  hundred  paces 
when  he  saw  four  mules,  and  then  a  carriage,  loom  up  from 
behind  a  little  hill.  Behind  this  carriage  came  another. 
It  required  only  one  glance  to  assure  him  that  these  were 
■the  equipages  he  was  in  search  of;  he  therefore  turned  his 
Vidle,  and  rode  back  to  the  king. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "here  are  the  carriages.     The  first,  as 
you  said,  contains  two  ladies  with  their  femmes  de  chambre  ; 
the  second  contains  the  footmen,  provisions,   and  neces 
saries." 

"That  is  well,"  replied  the  king,  in  an  agitated  voice. 
"Please  go  and  tell  those  ladies  that  a  cavalier  of  the  corut 
wishes  to  pay  his  respects  to  them  alone." 

The  officer  set  off  at  a  gallop.  "Mordiovx!"  said  he,  aa 
he  rods  on.  "here  is  a  new  and  an  honorable  employment, 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  85 

I  hope!  I  complained  of  being  nobody.  I  am  the  king's 
confidant;  that  is  enough  to  make  a  musketeer  burst  with 
pride." 

He  approached  the  carriage,  and  delivered  his  message 
gallantly  and  intelligently.  There  were  two  ladies  in  the 
carriage;  one  of  great  beauty,  although  rather  thin;  the 
other  less  favored  by  nature,  but  lively,  graceful,  and  unit- 
ing in  the  light  folds  of  her  brow  all  the  signs  of  a  strong 
will.  Her  eyes,  animated  and  piercing,  in  particular,  spoke 
more  eloquently  than  all  the  amorous  phrases  in  fashion  in 
those  days  of  gallantry.  It  was  to  her  D'Artagnan  ad 
dressed  himself,  without  fear  of  being  mistaken,  although 
the  other  was,  as  we  have  said,  the  more  handsome  of  the 
two. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "I  am  the  lieutenant  of  the  mus- 
keteers, and  there  is  on  the  road  a  cavalier  who  awaits  you, 
and  is  desirous  of  paying  his  respects  to  you." 

At  these  words,  the  effect  of  which  he  watched  closely, 
the  lady  with  the  black  eyes  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  leaned  out 
of  the  carriage  window,  and  seeing  the  cavalier  approach 
ing,  held  out  her  arms,  exclaiming: 

"Ah,  my  dear  sire!"  and  the  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes 

The  coachman  stopped  his  team;  the  women  rose  in  con- 
fusion from  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  and  the  second  lady 
made  a  slight  reverence,  terminated  by  the  most  ironical 
smile  that  jealousy  ever  imparted  to  the  lips  of  woman. 

"Mary,  dear  Mary!"  cried  the  king,  taking  the  hand  of 
the  black-eyed  lady  in  both  his.  And  opening  the  heavy 
door  himself,  he  drew  her  out  of  the  carriage  with  so  much 
ardor  that  she  was  in  his  arms  before  she  touched  the 
ground.  The  lieutenant,  posted  on  the  other  side  of  the 
tcarriage,  saw  and  heard  all  without  being  observed. 
I  The  king  offered  his  arm  to  Mile,  de  Mancini,  and  made 
'a  sign  to  the  coachmen  and  lackeys  to  proceed.  It  was 
nearly  six  o'clock;  the  road  was  fresh  and  pleasant;  tall 
trees  with  their  foliage  still  inclosed  in  the  golden  down  of 
their  buds  let  the  dew  of  morning  filter  from  their  trem- 
bling branches,  like  liquid  diamonds;  the  grass  was  burst- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  hedges;  the  swallows,  only  a  few  day? 
returned,  described  their  graceful  curves  between  thb 
heavens  and  the  water;  a  breeze,  perfumed  by  the  blossom- 
ing  woods,  sighed  along  the  road,  and  wrinkled  the  surface 
of  the  waters  of  the  river;  all  these  beauties  of  the  day,  all 
these  perfumes  of  the  plants,  all  these  aspirations  of  the 
taarth  toward  the  heavens,,  intoxicated  the  two  lovers,  walk 


86  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOXKE. 

ing  side  by  side,  leaning  upon  each  other,  eyes  fixed  upon 
eyes,  hand  clasped  within  hand,  and  who,  lingering  as  by  a 
common  desire,  did  not  dare  to  speak,  they  had  so  much  to 
«ay. 

The  officer  saw  that  the  king's  horse  pulled  this  way  and 
that,  and  inconvenienced  Mile,  de  Mancini.  He  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  pretext  of  taking  the  horse  to  draw  near  to 
them,  and  dismounted,  and  walking  between  the  two  horses 
he  led,  he  did  not  lose  a  single  word  or  gesture  of  the  loversc 
it  was  Mile,  de  Mancini  who  at  length  began. 

"Ah,  my  d?ar  sire!"  she  began,  "you  do  not  abandon  me, 
then?" 

"No/'  replied  the  king;  "you  see  I  do  not,  Mary." 

"I  had  been  so  often  told,  though,  that  as  soon  as  w© 
should  be  separated  you  would  no  longer  think  of  me." 

"Dear  Mary,  is  it  then  to-day  only  that  you  have  dis- 
covered we  are  surrounded  by  people  interested  in  deceiv- 
ing us?" 

But  then,  sire,  this  journey,  this  alliance  with  Spain? 
They  are  going  to  marry  you!" 

Louis  hung  his  head.  At  the  same  time  the  officer  coulc! 
see  in  the  sun  the  eyes  of  Mary  de  Mancini  shine  with  the 
brilliancy  of  a  poniard  starting  from  its  sheath.  "And  you 
have  done  nothing  in  favor  of  our  love?"  asked  the  girl, 
after  a  silence  of  a  moment. 

"Ah!  mademoiselle,  how  could  you  believe  that?  I 
threw  myself  at  the  feet  of  my  mother;  I  begged  her,  I  im- 
plored her;  I  told  her  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  were  in 
you;  I  even  threatened " 

"Well?"  asked  Mary  eagerly. 

"Well,  the  queen  mother  wrote  to  the  court  of  Eome, 
and  received  as  answer  that  a  marriage  between  us  would 
have  no  validity,  and  would  be  dissolved  by  the  holy  father. 
At  length,  finding  there  was  no  hope  for  us,  I  requested  to 
have  my  marriage  with  the  infanta  at  least  delayed." 

"And  yet  that  does  not  prevent  your  being  on  the  road 
to  meet  her?" 

"What  would  you  have?  To  my  prayers,  to  my  supplica- 
tions, to  my  tears,  I  received  no  answer  but  reasons  of  state." 

"Well,  well?"^ 

"Well,  what  is  to  be  done,  mademoiselle,  when  so  many 
wills  are  leagued  against  me?" 

It  was  now  Mary's  turn  to  hang  her  head.  "Then  I  must 
bid  you  adieu  forever,"  said  she.  "You  know  that  I  am 
being  exiled;  you  know  that  1  am  going  to  be  buried  alive; 
you  know,  still  more,  that  thev  want  tojmarry  me  also." 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONXE.  87 

Louis  became  very  pale,  and  placed  his  hand  upcn  his 
heart. 

"If  I  had  thought  that  my  life  only  had  been  at  stake,  1 
have  been  so  persecuted  that  I  might  have  yielded;  but  I 
thought  yours  was  concerned,  my  dear  sire,  and  I  stood  out 
for  the  sake  of  preserving  your  happiness/' 

"Oh,  yes!  my  happiness,  my  treasure!"  murmuied  the 
king,  more  gallantly  than  passionately,  perhaps. 

"The  cardinal  might  have  yielded,"  said  Mary,  "if  you 
had  addressed  yourself  to  him,  if  you  had  pressed  him. 
For  the  cardinal  to  call  the  King  of  France  his  nephew!  do 
you  not  perceive,  sire?  He  would  have  made  war  even  for 
that  honor;  the  cardinal,  assured  of  governing  alone,  under 
the  double  pretext  of  having  brought  up  the  king  and  given 
his  niece  to  him  in  marriage — the  cardinal  would  have  com- 
bated all  wills,  overcome  all  obstacles.  Oh,  sire!  I  can 
answer  for  that.  I  am  a  woman,  and  I  see  clearly  into 
everything  where  love  is  concerned." 

These  words  produced  a  strange  effect  upon  the  king. 
Instead  of  heightening  his  passion  they  cooled  it.  He 
stopped,  and  said,  with  precipitation: 

"What  is  to  be  said,  mademoiselle?  Everything  has 
failed." 

"Except  your  will,  I  trust,  my  dear  sire?" 

"Alas!"  said  the  king,  coloring,  "have  I  a  will?" 

"Oh!"  allowed  Mile,  de  Mancini  to  escape  mournfully, 
wounded  by  that  expression. 

"The  king  has  no  will  but  that  which  policy  dictates,  but 
that  which  reasons  of  state  impose  upon  him." 

"Oh!  it  is  because  you  have  no  love,"  cried  Mary;  "if 
you  loved,  sire,  you  would  have  a  will." 

On  pronouncing  these  words,  Mary  raised  her  eyes  to  her 
lover,  whom  she  saw  more  pale  and  more  cast  down  than  an 
exile  who  is  about  to  quit  his  native  land  forever.  "Accuse 
ne,"  murmured  the  king,  "but  do  not  say  I  do  not  love 
you." 

A  long  silence  followed  these  words,  which  the  young 
king  had  pronounced  with  a  perfectly  true  and  profound 
feeling.  "I  am  unable  to  think  that  to-morrow,  and  after 
to-morrow  I  shall  see  you  no  more;  I  cannot  think  that  I 
am  going  to  end  my  sad  days  at  a  distance  from  Paris;  that 
the  lips  of  an  old  man,  of  an  unknown,  should  touch  that 
hand  which  you  hold  within  yours;  no,  in  truth,  I  cannot 
think  of  all  that,  my  dear  sire,  without  my  poor  heart  burst* 
:°ng  with  despair." 


88  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

And  Mary  de  Mancini  did  shed  floods  of  tears.  On  his 
part,  the  king,  affected,  carried  his  handkerchief  to  his 
month,  and  stifled  a  sob. 

"See,"  said  she,  "the  carriages  have  stopped,  my  sister 
waits  for  me,  the  time  is  come;  what  you  are  about  to  de- 
cide upon  will  be  decided  for  life.  Oh,  sire!  you  are  will- 
ing, then,  that  I  should  lose  you?  You  are  willing,  then, 
Louis,  that  she  to  whom  you  have  said,  'I  love  you/  should 
belong  to  another  than  to  her  king,  to  her  master,  to  her 
dover?  Oh!  courage,  Louis!  courage!  One  word,  a  single 
word!  Say  'I  will!'  and  all  my  life  is  enchained  to  yours, 
and  all  my  heart  is  yours  forever." 

The  king  made  no  reply.  Mary  then  looked  at  him  as 
Dido  looked  at  iEneas  in  the  Elysian  fields,  fierce  and  dis- 
dainful. 

"Adieu,  then,"  said  she;  "adieu  life!  adieu  love!  adieu 
heaven!" 

And  she  made  a  step  to  depart.  The  king  detained  her, 
seized  her  hand,  which  he  glued  to  his  lips,  and  despair 
prevailing  over  the  resolution  he  appeared  to  have  inwardly 
formed,  he  let  fall  upon  that  beautiful  hand  a  burning  tear 
of  regret,  which  made  Mary  start,  so  really  had  that  tear 
burned  her.  She  saw  the  humid  eyes  of  the  king,  his  pale 
brow,  his  convulsed  lips,  and  cried,  with  an  accent  that 
cannot  be  described: 

"Oh,  sire!  you  are  a  king,  you  weep,  and  yet  I  depart!" 

As  his  sole  reply,  the  king  concealed  his  face  in  his  hand- 
kerchief. The  officer  here  uttered  something  so  like  a  roar 
that  it  frightened  the  horses.  Mile,  de  Mancini,  quite  in- 
dignant, quitted  t'ie  king's  arm,  got  precipitately  intf  the 
carriage,  crying  to  the  coachman,  "Go  on,  go  on,  quick!'-' 

The  coachman  obeyed,  flogged  his  mules,  and  the  heavy 
carriage  rocked  upon  its  creaking  axle,  while  the  King  of 
France.,  alone,  cast  down,  annihilated,  did  not  dare  to  look 
either  behind  or  before  him. 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 

IN  WHICH  THE    KING    AND    THE    LIEUTENANT    EACH    GIVE 
PROOFS   OF  MEMORY. 

When  the  king,  like  all  the  people  in  the  world  who  are 
in  love,  had  long  and  attentively  watched  the  disappearance 
in  the  horizon  ol  the  carriage  which  bore  away  his  mistress; 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOtfNE.  89 

when  he  had  turned  and  turned  again  a  hundred  times  to 
the  same  way,  and  had  at  length  succeeded  in  calming  in  a 
degree  the  agitation  of  his  heart  and  thoughts,  he  recol- 
lected that  he  was  not  alone.  The  officer  still  held  the 
horse  by  the  bridle,  and  had  not  lost  all  hope  of  seeing  the 
king  recover  his  resolution.  He  had  still  the  resource  of 
mounting,  and  riding  after  the  carriage;  they  would  have 
lost  nothing  by  waiting  a  little.  But  the  imagination  of 
;he  lieutenant  of  the  musketeers  was  too  rich  and  too  bril- 
liant; it  left  far  behind  it  that  of  the  king,  who  took  care 
not  to  allow  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  such  an  excess 
of  luxury.  He  contented  himself  with  approaching  the 
officer,  and  in  a  doleful  voice,  "Come,"  said  he,  ''let  us  be 
gone;  all  is  ended.     To  horse!" 

The  officer  imitated  this  carriage,  this  slowness,  this  sad- 
ness, and  leisurely  mounted  his  horse.  The  king  pushed  on 
sharply,  the  lieutenant  followed  him.  At  the  bridge  Louis 
turned  round  for  the  last  time.  The  lieutenant,  patient  as 
a  god  who  has  eternity  behind  and  before  him,  still  hoped 
for  a  return  of  energy.  But  it  was  groundless,  nothing 
appeared.  Louis  gained  the  street  which  led  to  the  castle, 
and  entered  as  seven  was  striking.  When  once  the  king 
was  returned,  and  the  musketeer,  who  saw  everything,  had 
seen  a  corner  of  the  tapestry  rise  at  the  window  of  the  car- 
dinal, he  breathed  a  profound  sigh,  like  a  man  unloosed  from 
the  tightest  bonds,  and  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"Now,  then,  my  officer,  I  hope  that  it  is  over." 

The  king  summoned  his  gentleman.  "Please  to  under- 
stand I  shall  receive  nobody  before  two  o'clock,"  said  he. 

"Sire,"  replied  the  gentleman,  "there  is,  however,  some 
one  who  requests  admittance." 

'Who  is  that?" 

'"'Your  lieutenant  of  musketeers." 

''He  who  accompanied  me?" 

J'Yes,  sire." 

'"'Ah!"  said  the  king,  "let  him  come  in." 

The  officer  entered.  The  king  made  a  sign,  and  the  gen- 
tleman and  the  valet  retired.  Louis  followed  them  with 
his  eyes  until  they  had  shut  the  door,  and  when  the  tapes- 
tries had  fallen  behind  them:  "You  remind  me  by  your 
presence,  monsieur,  of  something  I  had  forgotten  to  recom- 
mend to  you,  that  is  to  say,  the  most  absolute  discretion." 

"Oh,  sh*e!  why  does  your  majesty  give  yourself  the  trou* 
ole  of  making  me  such  a  recommendation?  It  is  plain  yoa 
do  not  know  me." 


90  THE  VICOMTE   DE  RRAOELONN'E. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  that  is  true.  I  know  that  you  are  dis- 
creet; but  as  I  had  prescribed  nothing " 

The  officer  bowed.  "Has  your  majesty  nothing  else  to 
say  to  me?" 

"No,  monsieur;  you  may  retire.'' 

"Shall  I  obtain  permission  not  to  do  so  till  I  have  spoken 
to  the  king,  sire?" 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  me?  Explain  yourself,  mon- 
sieur." 

"Sire,  a  thing  without  importance  to  you,  but  which 
interests  me  greatly.  Pardon  me,  then,  for  speaking  of  it. 
Without  urgency,  without  necessity,  I  never  would  have 
done  it,  and  I  would  have  disappeared,  mute  and  insignifi- 
cant as  I  always  have  been." 

"How!  Disappeared!  I  do  not  understand  you,  mon- 
sieur." 

"Sire,  in  a  word,"  said  the  officer,  "I  am  come  to  ask  for 
my  discharge  from  your  majesty's  service." 

The  king  made  a  movement  of  surprise,  but  the  officer 
remained  as  motionless  as  a  statue. 

"Your  discharge — yours,  monsieur?  and  for  how  long  a 
time,  pray?" 

"Why,  forever,  sire." 

"What,  you  ace  desirous  of  quitting  my  service,  mon- 
sieur?" said  Louis,  with  an  expression  that  revealed  some- 
thing more  than  surprise. 

"Sire,  I  have  that  regret." 

"Impossible!" 

"It  is  so,  however,  sire.  I  am  getting  old;  I  have  worn 
harness  now  thirty-five  years;  my  poor  shoulders  are  tired; 
I  feel  that  I  must  give  place  to  the  young.  I  don't  belong 
to  this  age;  I  have  still  one  foot  in  the  old  one;  it  results 
that  everything  is  strange  in  my  eyes,  everything  astonishes 
and  bewilders  me.  In  short,  I  have  the  honor  to  ask  for 
my  discharge  of  your  majesty." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  looking  at  the  officer,  who 
wore  his  uniform  with  an  ease  that  would  have  created 
envy  in  a  young  man,  "you  are  stronger  and  more  vigorous 
than  I  am." 

"Oh!"  replied  the  officer,  with  an  air  of  false  modesty, 
"your  majesty  says  so  because  I  still  have  a  good  eye  and  a 
tolerably  firm  foot — because  I  can  still  ride  a  horse,  and  my 
mustache  is  black;  but,  sire,  vanity  of  vanities  all  that — 
illusions  all  that — appearance,  smoke,  sire!  I  have  still  a 
young  air,  it  is  true,  but  I  am  old  at  bottom;  and  within 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  91 

six  months  I  feel  certain  I  shall  be  broken  down  gouty, 
impotent,     Therefore,  then,  sire " 

"Monsieur,"  interrupted  the  King,  "remember  your 
words  of  yesterday.  You  said  to  me  in  this  very  place 
where  you  now  are,  that  you  were  endowed  with  the  best 
health  of  any  man  in  France;  that  fatigue  was  unknown  to 
you;  that  you  cared  not  for  passing  whole  days  and  nights 
at  your  post.  Did  you  tell  me  that,  monsieur,  or  not? 
Eecall  your  memory,  monsieur." 

The  officer  breathed  a  sigh.  "Sire,"  said  he,  "old  age  is 
boastful;  and  it  is  pardonable  for  old  men  to  make  the 
eulogy  of  those  for  whom  others  no  longer  make  it.  It  is 
very  possible  I  said  that;  but  the  fact  is,  sire,  I  am  very 
much  fatigued,  and  request  permission  to  retire." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  advancing  toward  the  officer 
with  a  gesture  at  once  full  of  address  and  majesty,  "you  are 
not  assigning  me  the  true  reason.  You  wish  to  quit  my 
service,  it  may  be  true,  but  you  disguise  from  me  the 
motive  of  your  retreat." 

"Sire,  believe  that " 

"I  believe  what  I  see,  monsieur;  I  see  a  vigorous,  ener- 
getic man,  full  of  presence  of  mind,  the  best  soldier  in 
France,  perhaps;  and  this  personage  cannot  persuade  me 
the  least  in  the  world  that  you  stand  in  need  of  rest." 

"Ah,  sire!"  said  the  lieutenant,  with  bitterness,  "what 
praises!  Indeed,  your  majesty  confounds  me!  Energetic, 
vigorous,  brave,  intelligent,  the  best  soldier  in  the  army! 
But,  sire,  your  majesty  exaggerates  my  small  portion  of 
merit  to  such  a  point,  that,  however  good  an  opinion  I  may 
have  of  myself,  I  do  not  recognize  myself;  in  truth  I  do 
not.  If  I  were  vain  enough  to  believe  onty  half  of  your 
majesty's  words,  I  should  consider  myself  as  a  valuable, 
indispensable  man.  I  should  say  that  a  servant  possessed 
of  such  brilliant  qualities  was  a  treasure  beyond  all  price. 
Now,  sire,  I  have  been  all  my  life — I  feel  bound  to  say  it — 
except  at  the  present  time,  appreciated,  in  my  opinion, 
much  beneath  my  value.  I  therefore  repeat,  your  majesty 
exaggerates." 

The  king  knitted  his  brow,  for  he  saw  a  bitter  raillery 
beneath  the  words  of  the  officer.  "Come,  monsieur,"  said 
he,  "let  us  meet  the  question  frankly.  Are  you  dissatisfied 
with  my  service,  say?  No  evasions;  speak  boldly,  frankly 
— I  command  you  to  do  so." 

The  officer,  who  had  been  twisting  his  hat  about  in  his 
hands,with  an  embarrassed  air,  for  several  minutes,  raised  his 


92  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

head  at  these  words.  "Oh,  sire!"  said  he,  "that  puts  me 
a  little  more  at  my  ease.  To  a  question  put  so  frankly,  I 
will  reply  frankly.  To  tell  the  truth  is  a  good  thing,  as 
much  from  the  pleasure  one  feels  in  relieving  one's  heart, 
as  on  account  of  the  rarity  of  the  fact.  I  will  speak  the 
truth,  then,  to  my  king,  at  the  same  time  imploring  him  to 
excuse  the  frankness  of  an  old  soldier. " 

Louis  looked  at  his  officer  with  anxious  inquietude,  which 
was  manifested  by  agitation  of  his  gesture.  "Well,  then, 
speak,"  said  he,  "for  I  am  impatient  to  hear  the  truths  you 
have  to  tell  me." 

The  officer  threw  his  hat  upon  a  table,  and  his  counte- 
nance, always  so  intelligent  and  martial,  assumed,  all  at 
once,  a  strange  character  of  grandeur  and  solemnity. 
"Sire,"  said  he,  "I  quit  the  king's  service  because  I  am 
dissatisfied.  The  valet,  in  these  times,  can  approach  his 
master  as  respectfully  as  I  do,  can  give  him  an  account  of 
his  labor,  bring  back  his  tools,  render  the  funds  that  have 
been  intrusted  to  him,  and  say,  'Master,  my  day's  work  is 
Jone.     Pay  me,  if  you  please,  and  let  us  part.'  " 

"Monsieur!  monsieur!"  exclaimed  the  king,  purple  with 
rage. 

"Ah,  sire!"  replied  the  officer,  bending  his  knee  for  a 
moment,  "never  was  a  servant  more  respectful  than  I  am 
before  your  majesty;  only  you  commanded  me  to  tell  the 
truth.  Now  I  have  begun  to  tell  it,  it  must  come  out,  even 
if  you  command  me  to  hold  my  tongue." 

There  was  so  much  resolution  expressed  in  the  deep-sunk 
muscles  of  the  officer's  countenance  that  Louis  XIV.  had 
no  occasion  to  tell  him  to  continue;  he  continued,  then, 
while  the  king  looked  at  him  with  a  curiosity  mingled  with 
admiration. 

"Sire,  I  have,  as  I  have  said,  now  served  the  house  of 
France  thirty-five  years;  few  people  have  worn  out  so  many 
swords  in  that  service  as  I  have,  and  the  swords  I  speak  of 
were  good  swords,  too,  sire.  I  was  a  boy,  ignorant  of  every- 
thing except  courage,  when  the  king,  your  father,  divined 
that  there  was  a  man  in  me.  I  was  a  man,  sire,  when  the 
Cardinal  de  Eichelieu,  who  was  a  judge  of  manhood, 
divined  an  enemy  in  me.  Sire,  the  history  of  that  enmity 
between  the  ant  and  the  lion  may  be  read  from  the  first  to 
the  last  line  in  the  secret  archives  of  your  fanily*  If  ever 
you  feel  an  inclination  to  view  it,  do  it,  sire;  the  history  is 
worth  the  trouble — it  is  1  who  tell  you  so.  You  will  there 
read  that  the  Ijon,  fatigue^   harassed,  out  9t   oreath,  at 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  93 

length  cried  for  quarter,  and  the  justice  must  be  rendered 
to  him  to  say,  that  he  gave  as  much  as  he  required.  Oh! 
those  were  glorious  times,  sire,  strewed  over  with  battles 
like  one  of  Tasso's  or  Ariosto's  epopees''  The  wonders  of 
those  times,  to  which  the  people  of  ours  would  refuse  be- 
lief, were  everyday  occurrences.  For  five  years  together, 
I  was  a  hero  every  day;  at  least,  so  I  was  told  by  personages 
of  merit;  and  that  is  a  long  period  for  heroism,  trust  me, 
sire,  is  a  period  of  five  years.  Nevertheless,  I  have  faith  in 
what  these  people  told  me,  for  they  were  good  judges. 
They  were  named  Monsieur  de  Richelieu,  Monsieur  de 
Buckingham,  Monsieur  de  Beaufort,  Monsieur  de  Retz,  a 
rough  genius  himself  in  street  warfare.  In  short,  the  king, 
Louis  XIII. ,  and  even  the  queen,  your  august  mother,  who 
one  day  condescended  to  say,  'Thank  you,'  I  don't  know 
what  service  I  had  had  the  good  fortune  to  render  her. 
Pardon  me,  sire,  for  speaking  so  boldly;  but  what  I  relate 
to  you,  as  I  have  already  had  the  honor  to  tell  your  majesty, 
is  history." 

The  king  bit  his  lip,  and  threw  himself  violently  into  his 
fauteuil. 

"I  appear  importunate  to  your  majesty,"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant. 

"Eh!  sire,  that  is  the  fate  of  truth;  she  is  a  stern  com- 
panion; she  bristles  all  over  with  steel;  she  wounds  those 
she  attacks,  and  sometimes  him  who  speaks  her." 

"No,  monsieur,"  replied  the  king;  "I  bid  you  speak — 
speak,  then." 

"After  the  service  of  the  king  and  the  cardinal,  came  the 
service  of  the  regency,  sire.  I  fought  pretty  well  in  the 
Fronde — much  less  though  than  the  first  time.  The  men 
began  to  diminish  in  stature.  I  have,  nevertheless,  led 
your  majesty's  musketeers  on  some  perilous  occasions, 
which  stand  upon  the  orders  of  the  day  of  the  company. 
Mine  was  a  beautiful  lot  then!  I  was  the  favorite  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Mazarin.  Lieutenant  here!  lieutenant  there!  lieu- 
tenant to  the  right!  lieutenant  to  the  left!  There  was  not 
a  buffet  dealt  in  France  of  which  your  humble  servant  was 
not  charged  with  the  dealing;  but  they  soon  became  not 
contented  with  France;  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  he  sent  me 
to  England  on  Cromwell's  account;  another  gentleman  who 
was  not  over  gentle,  I  assure  you,  sire.  I  had  the  honor  to 
know  him,  and  I  was  well  able  to  appreciate  him.  A  great 
deal  was  promised  me  on  account  of  that  mission.  So,  as  I 
did  in  it  quite  contrary  to  all  I  had  been  bidden  to  do,  I  was 


94  THE  VIOOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNB. 

generously  paid,  for  I  was  at  length  appointed  captain  of 
the  musketeers;  that  is  to  say,  to  the  post  most  envied  at 
court,  which  takes  the  pas  over  the  marechah  of  France, 
and  with  justice;  for  when  the  captain  of  the  musketeers 
is  named,  the  flower  and  king  of  the  brave  is  named." 

"Captain,  monsieur?"  interrupted  the  king.  "You  make 
a  mistakeo     Lieutenant,  you  mean  to  say." 

"Not  at  all,  sire — I  make  no  mistake;  your  majesty  may 
rely  upon  me  in  that  respect.  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  gave 
me  the  commission  himself." 

"Well." 

"But  Monsieur  de  Mazarin,  aa  you  know  better  than  any- 
oody,  does  not  often  give,  and  sometimes  takes  back  what 
he  has  given;  he  took  it  back  again  as  soon  as  peace  was 
made  and  he  was  no  longer  in  want  of  me.  Certes,  I  was 
not  worthy  to  replace  Monsieur  de  Treville,  of  illustrious 
memory;  but  they  had  promised  me,  and  they  had  given 
me;  they  ought  to  have  stopped  there." 

"Is  that  what  dissatisfies  you,  monsieur?  "Well,  I  will 
make  inquiries.  I  love  justice;  and  your  claim,  though 
made  in  military  fashion,  does  not  displease  me." 

"Oh,  sire,"  said  the  other,  "your  majesty  has  ill  under- 
stood me;  I  no  longer  claim  anything  now." 

"Excess  of  delicacy,  monsieur;  but  I  will  keep  my  eye 
upon  your  affairs,  and  hereafter- — " 

"Oh,  sire,  what  a  word — hereafter!  Thirty  years  have  I 
lived  upon  that  promising  word,  which  has  been  pronounced 
by  so  many  great  personages,  and  which  your  mouth  has, 
in  its  turn,  just  pronounced.  Hereafter!  that  is  how  I  have 
received  a  score  of  wounds,  and  now  I  have  reached  fifty- 
four  years  of  age,  without  ever  having  had  a  louis  in  my 
purse,  and  without  ever  having  met  with  a  protector  in  my 
road — I,  who  have  protected  so  many  people!  So  I  change 
my  formula,  sire;  and  when  anyone  says  to  me  'Hereafter,' 
I  reply,  'Now.'  It  is  repose  I  solicit,  sire.  That  may  be 
aasily  granted  me.     That  will  cost  nobody  anything." 

"I  did  not  look  for  this  language,  monsieur,  particularly 
from  a  man  who  has  always  lived  among  the  great.  You 
forget  you  are  speaking  to  the  king,  to  a  gentleman  who  is, 
I  suppose,  of  as  good  a  house  as  yourself;  and  when  I  say 
hereafter,  I  mean  a  certainty." 

"I  do  not  at  all  doubt  it,  sire;  but  this  is  the  end  of  the 
terrible  truth  I  had  to  tell  you.  If  I  were  to  see  upon  that 
table  a  marechal's  baton,  the  sword  of  constable,  tie  crown 
of  Poland,  instead  of  'hereafter/  I  swear  to  you,  sire,  that 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  95 

I  should  still  S3y  'Now!'  Oh,  excuse  me,  sire!  I  am  from 
the  country  of  your  grandfather,  Henry  IV.  I  do  not 
speak  often;  but  when  I  do  speak,  I  speak  all." 

"The  future  of  my  reign  has  little  temptation  for  xrous 
monsieur,  it  appears,"  said  Louis  haughtily. 

"Forgetfulness,  forgetfulness  everywhere!"  cried  the 
officer,  with  a  noble  air;  "the  master  has  forgotten  the 
servants  so  that  the  servant  is  reduced  to  forget  hij  mas- 
ter. I  live  in  unfortunate  times,  sire.  I  see  youth  full  of 
discouragement  and  fear,  I  see  it  timid  and  despoiled,  when 
it  ought  to  be  rich  and  powerful.  I  yesterday  evening,  for 
example,  open  the  door  to  a  king  of  England,  whose  father, 
humble  as  I  am,  I  was  near  to  saving,  if  God  had  not  been 
against  me — God,  who  inspired  his  elect,  Cromwell!  I 
open,  I  said,  the  door,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  palace  of  one 
brother  to  another  brother,  and  I  see — stop,  sire,  that 
presses  upon  my  heart! — I  see  the  minister  of  that  king 
drive  away  the  proscribed  prince,  and  humiliate  his  master 
by  condemning  to  want  another  king,  his  equal.  Then  I 
see  my  prince,  who  is  young,  handsome,  and  brave,  who 
has  courage  in  his  heart  and  lightning  in  his  eye — I  see  him 
tremble  before  a  priest,  who  laughs  at  him  behind  the  cur- 
tains of  his  alcove,  where  he  digests  all  the  gold  of  France, 
which  he  afterward  stuffs  into  secret  coffers.  Yes — I  un- 
derstand your  looks,  sire.  I  am  bold  to  madness;  but  what 
is  to  be  said?  I  am  an  old  man,  and  I  tell  you  here,  sire, 
to  you,  my  king,  things  which  I  would  cram  down  the 
throat  of  any  one  who  should  dare  to  pronounce  them  be- 
fore me.  You  have  commanded  me  to  pour  out  the  bottom 
of  my  heart  before  you,  sire,  and  I  cast  at  the  feet  of  your 
majesty  the  bile  which  I  have  been  collecting  during  thirty 
years,  as  I  would  pour  out  all  my  blood,  if  your  majesty 
commanded  me  to  do  so." 

The  king,  without  speaking  a  word,  wiped  the  drops  of 
cold  and  abundant  sweat  which  trickled  from  his  temples. 
The  moment  of  silence  which  followed  this  vehement  out- 
break represented  for  him  who  had  spoken,  and  for  him 
who  had  listened,  ages  of  suffering. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  at  length,  "you  have  pro- 
nounced the  word  forgetfulness.  I  have  heard  nothing  but 
that  word;  I  will  reply,  then,  to  it  alone.  Others  have  per- 
haps been  able  to  forget,  but  I  have  not,  and  the  proof  is, 
that  I  remember  that  one  day  of  riot,  that  one  day  in  which 
the  furious  people,  furious  and  roaring  as  the  sea,  invaded 
the  royal  palace;  that  one  day,  when  I  feigned  to  sleep  in 


98  THE  VICOMTE  D£  BRAGELONNS. 

my  bed,  one  man  alone,  naked  sword  in  hand,  concealed 
behind  my  bolster,  watched  over  my  life,  ready  to  risk  his 
own  for  me,  as  he  had  before  risked  it  twenty  times  for  the 
lives  of  my  family.  Was  not  the  gentleman,  whose  name 
I  then  demanded,  called  Monsieur  d'Artagnan?  Say, 
monsieur." 

"Your  majesty  has  a  good  memory,"  replied  the  officer 
coldly. 

"You  see,  then,"  continued  the  king,  "if  I  have  such 
remembrances  of  my  childhood,  what  an  amount  I  may 
gather  in  the  age  of  reason." 

"Your  majesty  has  been  richly  endowed  by  God,"  said 
the  officer,  in  the  same  tone. 

"Come,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  continued  Louis,  with 
feverish  agitation,  "ought  you  not  to  be  as  patient  as  I  am? 
Ought  you  not  to  do  as  I  do?     Come!" 

"And  what  do  you  do,  sire?" 

"I  wait." 

"Your  majesty  may  do  so,  because  you  are  young;  but  I, 
sire,  have  not  time  to  wait;  old  age  is  at  my  door,  and 
death  is  behind  it,  looking  into  the  very  depths  of  my  house. 
Your  majesty  is  beginning  life,  its  future  is  full  of  hope 
and  fortune,  but  I,  sire,  I  am  at  the  other  side  of  the  hori- 
zon, and  we  are  so  far  from  each  other  that  I  should  never 
have  time  to  wait  till  your  majesty  came  up  to  me." 

Louis  made  another  turn  in  his  apartment,  still  wiping 
the  sweat  from  his  brow,  in  a  manner  that  would  have  ter- 
rified his  physicians  if  his  physicians  had  witnessed  the  state 
his  majesty  was  in. 

"It  is  very  well,  monsieur,"  said  Louis  XIV.,  in  a  sharp 
voice;  "you  are  desirous  of  having  your  discharge,  and  you 
shall  have  it.  You  offer  me  your  resignation  of  the  rank 
of  lieutenant  of  the  musketeers?" 

"I  deposit  it  humbly  at  your  majesty's  feet,  sire  " 

"That  is  sufficient.     I  will  order  your  pension." 

"I  shall  have  a  thousand  obligations  to  your  majesty.'' 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  with  a  violent  effort,  "I  think 
you  are  losing  a  good  master." 

"And  I  am  sure  of  it,  sire." 

"Shall  you  ever  find  such  another?" 

"Oh,  sire,  I  know  that  your  majesty  is  alone  in  the  world; 
therefore  will  I  never  again  take  service  with  any  king  upon 
earth,  and  will  never  again  have  other  master  than  myself." 

"You  say  so?" 

''I  swear  so,  your  majesty." 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  97 

:<I  shall  remember  that  word,  monsieur." 

D'Artagnan  bowed. 

"And  you  know  I  have  a  good  memory,"  said  the  king. 

"Yes,  sire;  and  yet  I  should  desire  that  that  memory 
should  fail  your  majesty  in  this  instance,  in  order  that  you 
might  forget  all  the  miseries  I  have  been  forced  to  spread 
before  your  eyes.  Your  majesty  is  so  much  above  the  poor 
and  the  mean,  that  I  hope " 

"My  majesty,  monsieur,  will  act  like  the  sun,  which  looks 
upon  all,  great  and  small,  rich  and  poor,  giving  luster  to 
some,  warmth  to  others,  and  life  to  all.  Adieu,  Monsieur 
d'Artagnan — adieu;  you  are  free." 

And  the  king,  with  a  hoarse  sob,  which  was  lost  in  his 
throat,  passed  quickly  into  the  next  chamber.  D'Artagnan 
took  up  his  hat  from  the  table  upon  which  he  had  thrown 
it,  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE     PROSCRIBED. 

D'AkTAGnan  had  not  reached  the  bottom  of  the  staircase 
when  the  king  called  his  gentleman. 

"I  have  a  commission  to  give  you,  monsieur,"  said  he. 

"I  am  at  your  majesty's  commands." 

"AVait,  then." 

And  the  young  king  began  to  write  the  following  letter, 
which  cost  him  more  than  one  sigh,  although,  at  the  same 
time,  something  like  a  feeling  of  triumph  glittered  in  his 
eyes:  • 

"Monsieur  le  Cardinal:  Thanks  to  your  good  coun- 
sels, and,  above  all,  thanks  to  your  firmness,  I  have  sue- 
ceeded  in  overcoming  a  weakness  unworthy  of  a  king.  You 
have  too  ably  arranged  my  destiny  to  allow  gratitude  not  to 
stop  me  at  the  moment  I  was  about  to  destroy  your  work. 
I  felt  I  was  wrong  to  wish  to  make  my  life  deviate  from  the 
course  you  had  marked  out  for  it.  Certes,  it  would  have 
been  a  misfortune  to  France  and  my  family  if  a  misunder- 
standing had  taken  place  between  me  and  my  minister. 
This,  however,  would  certainly  have  happened  if  I  had 
made  your  niece  my  wife.  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  this, 
and  will  henceforth  oppose  nothing  to  the  accomplishment 


98  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

of  my  destiny.     I  am  prepared,  then,  to  marry  the  infanta, 
Maria  Theresa,     You  may  at  once  open  the  conference. 

"Your  affectionate 

"Louis." 

The  king,  after  reperusing  the  letter,  sealed  it  himself. 
':This  letter  for  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,"  said  he. 

The  gentleman  took  it.  At  Mazarin's  door  he  found 
Bernouin  waiting  with  anxiety. 

"Well?"  asked  the  minister's  valet  de  chambre. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  gentleman,  "here  is  a  letter  for  his 
eminence." 

"A  letter!  Ah!  we  expected  one  after  the  little  journey 
of  the  morning." 

"Oh!  you  know,  then,  that  his  majesty " 

"In  quality  of  first  minister,  it  belongs  to  the  duties  of 
our  charge  to  know  everything.  And  his  majesty  prays 
and  implores,  I  presume." 

"I  don't  know,  but  he  sighed  frequently  while  he  was 
writing." 

"Yes,  yes,  yes;  we  understand  all  that;  people  sigh  some- 
times from  happiness  as  well  as  from  grief,  monsieur." 

"And  yet  the  king  did  not  look  very  happy  when  he  re- 
turned, monsieur." 

"You  did  not  see  clearly.  Besides,  you  only  saw  his 
majesty  on  his  return,  for  he  was  only  accompanied  by  the 
lieutenant  of  the  guards.  But  I  had  his  eminence's  tele- 
scope; 1  looked  through  it  when  he  was  tired,  and  I  am  sure 
they  both  wept." 

"Well,  was  it  for  happiness  they  wept?" 

"No,  but  for  love,  and  they  vowed  to  each  other  a  thou- 
sand tendernesses,  which  the  king  asks  no  better  than  to 
keep.  Now,  this  letter  is  a  commencement  of  the  execu- 
tion." 

"And  what  does  his  eminence  think  of  this  love,  which 
is,  by  the  bye,  no  secret  to  anybody." 

Bernouin  took  the  gentleman  by  the  arm,  and  while  as- 
cending the  staircase:  "In  confidence,"  said  he,  in  a  low 
voice,  "his  eminence  looks  for  success  in  the  affair.  I 
know  very  well  we  shall  have  war  with  Spain;  but,  bah! 
war  will  please  the  nobles.  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  besides, 
can  endow  his  niece  royally,  nay,  more  than  royally.  There 
will  be  money,  festivities,  and  fireworks — evervbodv  wiii  be 
delighted." 

"Well,  for  my  part,"  replied 'the  gentleman,  shaking   his 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOJOTE.  99 

head,  "it  appears  to  me  that  this  letter  is  very  light  to  con- 
tain all  that." 

"My  friend,"  replied  Bernouin,  "I  am  certain  of  what  I 
tell  you.  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  related  all  that  passed  to 
me." 

"Ay,  ay!  and  what  did  he  tell  you?     Let  us  hear." 

"I  accosted  him  by  asking  him,  on  the  part  of  the  car- 
dinal, if  there  were  any  news,  without  discovering  my  de- 
signs, observe,  for  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  is  a  cunning  hand. 
'My  dear  Monsieur  Bernouin,'  he  replied,  'the  king  is 
madly  in  love  with  Mademoiselle  de  Mancini,  that  is  all  I 
have  to  tell  you.'  And  then  I  asked  him:  'Do  you  think, 
to  such  a  degree  that  it  will  urge  him  to  act  contrary  to  the 
designs  of  his  eminence?'  'Ah!  don't  interrogate  me,'  said 
he;  'I  think  the  king  capable  of  anything;  he  has  a  head  of 
iron,  and  what  he  wills  he  wills  in  earnest.  If  he  takes  it 
into  his  head  to  marry  Mademoiselle  de  Mancini,  he  will 
marry  her,  depend  upon  it.'  And  thereupon  he  left  me 
and  went  straight  to  the  stables,  took  a  horse,  saddled  it 
himself,  jumped  upon  its  back,  and  set  off  as  if  the  devil 
were  at  his  heels." 

"So  that  you  believe,  then " 

"I  believe  that  Monsieur  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Guards 
knew  more  than  he  was  willing  to  say." 

"In  your  opinion,  then,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan " 

"Is  gone,  according  to  all  probability,  after  the  exiles,  to 
carry  out  all  that  can  facilitate  the  success  of  the  king's 
love." 

Chatting  thus,  the  two  confidants  arrived  at  the  door  of 
his  eminence's  apartment.  His  eminence's  gout  had  left 
him;  he  was  walking  about  his  chamber  in  a  state  of  great 
anxiety,  listening  at  the  doors  and  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow. Bernouin  entered,  followed  by  the  gentleman,  who 
had  orders  from  the  king  to  place  the  letter  in  the  hands  of 
the  cardinal  himself.  Mazarin  took  the  letter,  but  before 
opening  it  he  got  up  a  ready  smile,  a  smile  of  circumstance, 
able  to  throw  a  veil  over  emotions  of  whatever  sort  they 
might  be.  So  prepared,  whatever  was  the  impression  re- 
ceived from  the  letter,  no  reflection  of  that  impression  was 
allowed  to  transpire  upon  his  countenance. 

"Well,"  said  he,  when  he  had  read  and  reread  the  letter, 
"exceedingly  well,  monsieur.  Inform  the  king  that  I  thank; 
him  for  his  obedience  to  the  wishes  of  the  queen-mother, 
and  that  I  will  do  everything  for  the  accomplishment  of  his 
will." 


100  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

The  gentleman  left  the  room.  The  door  had  scarcely 
closed  before  the  cardinal,  who  had  no  mask  for  Bernouin, 
took  off  that  which  had  so  recently  covered  his  face,  and 
with  a  most  dismal  expression,  ''Call  Monsieur  de  Brienne/* 
said  he.     Five  minutes  afterward  the  secretary  entered. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Mazarin,  "I  have  just  rendered  a  great 
service  to  the  monarchy,  the  greatest  I  have  ever  rendered 
it.  You  will  carry  this  letter,  which  proves  it,  to  her 
majesty  the  queen-mother,  and  when  she  shall  have  returned 
it  to  you,  you  will  lodge  it  in  portfolio  B,  which  is  filled 
with  documents  and  papers  relative  to  my  ministry." 

Brienne  went  as  desired,  and  as  the  letter  was  unsealed, 
did  not  fail  to  read  it  on  his  way.  There  is  likewise  no 
doubt  that  Bernouin,  who  was  on  good  terms  with  every- 
body, approached  so  near  to  the  secretary  as  to  be  able  to 
read  the  letter  over  his  shoulder;  so  that  the  news  spread 
with  such  activity  through  the  castle  that  Mazarin  might 
have  feared  it  would  reach  the  ears  of  the  queen-mother 
before  M.  de  Brienne  could  convey  Louis  XI V.'s  letter  to 
her.  A  moment  after,  orders  were  given  for  departure,  and 
M.  de  Conde  having  been  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  king, 
at  his  pretended  rising,  inscribed  the  city  of  Poitiers  upon 
his  tablets,  as  the  place  of  sojourn  and  repose  of  their 
majesties.  Thus  in  a  few  instants  was  unraveled  an  in- 
trigue which  had  covertly  occupied  all  the  dijilomacies  of 
Europe.  It  had  nothing,  however,  very  clear  as  a  result, 
but  to  make  a  poor  lieutenant  of  musketeers  lose  his  com- 
mission and  his  fortune.  It  is  true,  that  in  exchange  he 
gained  his  liberty.  We  shall  soon  know  how  M.  d'Artag- 
nan  profited  by  this.  For  the  moment,  if  the  reader  will 
permit  us,  we  will  return  to  the  hostelry  of  les  Medici,  of 
which  one  of  the  windows  opened  at  the  very  moment  the 
orders  were  given  for  the  departure  of  the  king. 

The  window  that  opened  was  that  of  one  of  the  chambers 
of  Charles  II.  The  unfortunate  prince  had  passed  the 
night  in  bitter  reflections,  his  head  supported  by  his  hands, 
and  his  elbows  on  the  table,  while  Parry,  infirm  and  old, 
fatigued  in  body  and  in  mind,  had  fallen  asleep  in  a  corner. 
A  singular  fortune  was  that  of  this  faithful  servant,  who 
saw  recommencing  for  the  second  generation  the  fearful 
series  of  misfortunes  which  had  weighed  so  heavily  on  the 
first.  When  Charles  II.  had  well  thought  over  the  fresh 
defeat  he  had  experienced,  when  he  perfectly  comprehended 
the  complete  isolation  into  which  he  had  just  fallen,  on  see- 
ing his  fresh  hope  le+'t  behind  him,  he  was  seized  as  with  a 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  101 

vertigo,  and  sank  back  in  the  large  fauteuil  iu  which  he 
was  seated.  Then  God  took  pity  on  the  unhappy  prince, 
and  sent  to  console  him  sleep,  the  innocent  brother  of 
death.  He  did  not  wake  till  half-past  six,  that  is  to  say,  till 
the  sun  shone  brightly  into  his  chamber,  and  Parry,  motion- 
less with  fear  of  waking  him,  was  observing  with  profound 
grief  the  eyes  of  the  young  man  already  red  with  wakeful- 
ness,  and  his  cheeks  pale  with  suffering  and  privations. 

At  length  the  noise  of  some  heavy  carts  descending 
toward  the  Loire  awakened  Charles.  He  rose,  looked 
around  him  like  a  man  who  has  forgotten  everything,  per 
ceived  Parry,  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  commanded  him 
to  settle  the  reckoning  with  Master  Cropole.  Master  Cro- 
pole,  being  called  upon  to  settle  his  account  with  Parry, 
acquitted  himself,  it  must  be  allowed,  like  an  honest  man; 
he  only  made  his  customary  remark,  that  the  two  travelers 
had  eaten  nothing  which  had  the  double  disadvantage  of 
being  humiliating  for  his  kitchen,  and  of  forcing  him  to 
ask  payment  for  a  repast  not  consumed,  but  not  the  less 
lost.     Parry  had  nothing  to  say  to  the  contrary,  and  paid. 

"I  hope,"  said  the  king,  "it  has  not  been  the  same  with 
the  horses.  I  don't  see  that  they  have  eaten  at  your  ex- 
pense, and  it  would  be  a  misfortune  for  travelers  like  us, 
who  have  a  long  journey  to  make,  to  have  our  horses  fail 
us." 

But  Cropole,  at  this  doubt,  assumed  his  majestic  air,  and 
replied  that  the  manger  of  Us  Medici  was  not  less  hospita- 
ble than  its  refectory. 

The  king  mounted  his  horse;  his  old  servant  did  the 
same,  and  both  set  out  toward  Paris,  without  meeting  a 
single  person  on  their  road,  in  the  streets,  or  the  faubourgs 
of  the  city.  For  the  prince  the  blow  was  more  severe, 
from  being  a  fresh  exile.  The  unfortunate  cling  to  the 
smallest  hopes,  as  the  happy  do  to  the  greatest  good;  and 
when  they  are  obliged  to  quit  the  place  where  that  hope  has 
soothed  their  hearts,  they  experience  the  mortal  regret 
which  the  banished  man  feels  when  he  places  his  foot  upon 
the  vessel  which  is  to  bear  him  into  exile.  It  appears  that 
the  heart  already  wounded  so  many  times  suffers  from  the 
least  scratch;  it  appears  that  it  considers  as  a  good  the 
momentary  absence  of  evil,  which  is  nothing  but  the  absence 
of  pain;  and  that  God,  into  the  most  terrible  misfortunes, 
has  thrown  hope  as  the  drop  of  water  which  the  rich  bad 
man  in  hell  entreated  of  Lazarus. 

For  one  instant  even  the  hope  of  Charles  II.  had  been 


102  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

more  than  a  fugitive  joy — that  was  when  he  found  himself  so 
kindly  welcomed  by  his  brother  king;  then  it  had  taken  a 
form  that  had  become  a  reality;  then,  all  at  once,  the  re- 
fusal of  Mazarin  had  reduced  the  factitious  reality  to  the 
state  of  a  dream.  This  promise  of  Louis  XIV.,  so  soon 
resumed,  had  been  nothing  but  a  mockery,  a  mockery  like 
his  crown — like  his  scepter — like  his  friends — like  all  that 
had  surrounded  his  royal  childhood,  and  which  had  aban- 
doned his  proscribed  youth.  Mockery!  everything  was  a 
mockery  for  Charles  II.,  except  the  cold,  black  repose 
promised  by  death. 

Such  were  the  ideas  of  the  unfortunate  prince  while  sit- 
ting listlessly  upon  his  horse,  to  which  he  abandoned  tke 
reius;  he  rode  slowly  along  beneath  the  warm  sun  of  May, 
in  which  the  somber  misanthropy  of  the  exile  perceived  a 
last  insult  to  his  grief. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

"remember!" 

A  horseman"  who  passed  rapidly  along  the  road  leading 
toward  Blois,  which  he  had  left  nearly  half  an  hour  before, 
crossed  the  two  travelers,  and,  though  apparently  in  haste, 
raised  his  hat  as  he  passed  them.  The  king  scarcely  ob- 
served this  young  man,  who  was  about  twenty-five  years  of 
age.  Turning  round  several  times,  he  made  signals  of  kind- 
ness to  a  man  standing  before  the  gate  of  a  handsome  white- 
and-red  house;  that  ^  to  say,  built  of  brick  and  stone,  with 
a  slated  roof,  situated  on  the  left  hand  of  the  road  the 
prince  was  traveling. 

This  man,  old,  tall,  and  thin,  with  white  hair — we  speak 
©f  him  standing  by  the  gate — this  man  replied  to  the  fare- 
well signals  of  the  young  one  by  signs  of  parting  as  tender 
as  could  have  been  made  by  a  father.  The  young  man  dis- 
appeared at  the  first  turning  of  the  road,  bordered  by  fine 
trees,  and  the  old  man  was  preparing  to  return  to  the 
house,  when  the  two  travelers,  arriving  in  front  of  the 
gate,  attracted  his  attention. 

The  king,  we  have  said,  was  riding  with  his  head  cast 
down,  his  arms  inert,  leaving  his  horse  to  go  what  pace  he 
liked,  while  Parry  behind  him,  the  better  to  imbibe  the 
genial  influence  of  the  sun,  had  taken  off  his  hat,  and  was 
looking  about  to  the  right  and  left.     His  eyes  encountered 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  103 

those  of  the  old  man  leaning  against  the  gate,  and  who,  as 
if  struck  by  some  strange  spectacle,  uttered  an  exclamation, 
and  made  one  step  toward  the  two  travelers.  From  Parry 
his  eyes  immediately  turned  toward  the  king,  upon  whom 
they  stopped  for  an  instant.  This  examination  however 
rapid,  was  reflected  instantly  in  a  visible  manner  upon  the 
features  of  the  tall  .old  man.  For  scarcely  had  he  recog- 
nized the  younger  of  the  travelers — and  we  say  recognized, 
for  nothing  but  a  perfect  recognition  could  have  explained 
such  an  act — scarcely,  we  say,  had  he  recognized  the 
younger  of  the  two  travelers,  than  he  clapped  his  hands  to- 
gether with  respectful  surprise,  and,  raising  his  hat  from 
his  head,  bowed  so  profoundly  that  it  might  have  been  said 
he  was  kneeling.  This  demonstration,  however  absent,  or, 
rather,  however  absorbed  was  the  king  in  his  reflections, 
attracted  his  attention  instantly,  and  checking  his  horse, 
and  turning  toward  Parry,  he  exclaimed: 

"Good  God!  Parry,  who  is  that  man  who  salutes  me  in 
such  a  marked  manner?     Can  he  know  me,  think  you?" 

Parry,  much  agitated  and  very  pale,  had  already  turned 
his  horse  toward  the  gate. 

"Ah,  sire,"  said  he,  stopping  suddenly  at  five  or  six 
paces'  distance  from  the  still  bending  old  man,  "sire,  I  am 
seized  with  astonishment,  for  I  think  I  recognize  that  brave 
man.  Yes,  it  must  be  he!  Will  your  majesty  permit  me 
to  speak  to  him?" 

"Certainly." 

"Can  it  be  you,  Monsieur  Grimaud?"  asked  Parry. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  replied  the  tall  old  man,  looking  up  without 
abating  in  his  respectful  attitude. 

"Sire,"  then  said  Parry,  "I  was  not  deceived.  This 
good  man  is  the  servant  of  the  Comte  de  la  Fere,  and  the 
Comte  de  la  Fere,  if  you  remember,  is  the  worthy  gentle- 
man of  whom  I  have  so  often  spoken  to  your  majesty  that 
the  remembrance  of  him  must  remain,  not  only  in  your 
mind,  but  in  your  heart." 

"He  who  was  present  at  the  last  moments  of  my  father?5-' 
asked  Charles,  evidently  affected  at  the  remembrance. 

"The  same,  sire." 

"Alas!"  said  Charles;  and  then  addressing  Grimaud, 
whose  penetrating  and  intelligent  eyes  seemed  to  search 
and  divine  his  thoughts:  "My  friend,"  said  he,  "does  your 
master,  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere,  live  in  this  neigh- 
borhood?" 

"There,"  replied  Grimaud,  pointing  with  his  outstretched 
arm  "to  the  white-and-red  house  behind  the  gate* 


104  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOXNE. 

"And  is  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere  at  home  at 
present?" 

"At  the  back,  under  the  chestnut-trees." 

"Parry,"  said  the  king,  "I  will  not  miss  this  opportunity, 
so  precious  for  me,  to  thank  the  gentleman  to  whom  our 
house  is  indebted  for  such  a  noble  example  of  devotedness 
and  generosity.  Hold  my  horse,  my  friend,  if  you  please." 
And,  throwing  the  bridle  to  Grimaud,  the  king  entered  the 
abode  of  Athos,  quite  alone,  as  one  equal  enters  the  dwell- 
ing of  another.  Charles  had  been  informed  by  the  concise 
explanation  of  Grimaud:  "At  the  back,  under  the  chestnut- 
trees;"  he  left,  therefore,  the  house  on  the  left,  and  went 
straight  down  the  path  indicated.  The  thing  was  easy; 
the  tops  of  those  noble  trees,  already  covered  with  leaves 
and  flowers,  rose  above  all  the  rest.  On  arriving  under  the 
lozenges,  by  turns  luminous  and  dark,  which  checkered  the 
ground  of  this  path  according  as  the  trees  were  more  or  less 
in  leaf,  the  young  prince  perceived  a  gentleman  walking 
with  his  arms  behind  him,  apparently  plunged  in  a  pro- 
found reverie.  Without  doubt  he  had  often  had  this  gen- 
tleman described  to  him,  for,  without  hesitating,  Charles 
II.  walked  straight  up  to  him.  At  the  sound  of  his  foot- 
steps, the  Comte  de  la  Fere  raised  his  head,  and  seeing  an 
unknown  of  a  noble  and  elegant  carrriage  coming  toward 
him,  he  raised  his  hat  and  waited.  At  some  paces  from 
him,  Charles  II.  likewise  took  off  his  hat.  Then,  as  if  in 
reply  to  the  comte's  mute  interrogation: 

"Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  he,  "I  come  to  discharge  a 
duty  toward  you.  I  have,  for  a  long  time,  had  the  expres- 
sion of  a  profound  gratitude  to  bring  you.  I  am  Charles 
II.,  son  of  Charles  Stuart,  who  reigned  in  England,  and  died 
on  the  scaffold." 

On  hearing  this  illustrious  name,  Athos  felt  a  kind  of 
shudder  creep  through  his  veins,  but  at  the  sight  of  the 
young  prince  standing  uncovered  before  him,  and  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  toward  him,  two  tears,  for  an  instant, 
dimmed  his  brilliant  eyes.  He  bent  respectfully,  but  the 
prince  took  him  by  the  hand. 

"See  how  unfortunate  I  am,  Monsieur  le  Comte;  it  is 
only  due  to  chance  that  I  have  met  with  you.  Alas!  I 
ought  to  have  people  around  me  whom  I  love  and  honor, 
whereas  I  am  reduced  to  preserve  their  services  in*  my 
heart,  and  their  names  in  my  memory;  so  that  if  your  serv- 
ant had  not  recognized  mine,  I  should  have  passed  by  your 
door  as  by  that  of  a  stranger." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  105 

"It  is  but  too  true,"  said  Athos,  replying  with  his  voice 
to  the  first  part  of  the  king's  speech,  and  with  a  bow  to  the 
second;  "it  is  but  too  true,  indeed,  that  your  majesty  has 
seen  many  evil  days." 

"And  the  worst,  alas!"  replied  Charles,  "are  perhaps 
still  to  come." 

''Sire,  let  us  hope." 

"Comte,  comte,"  continued  Charles,  shaking  nis  head, 
"I  entertained  hope  till  last  night,  and  that  of  a  good 
Christian,  I  swear." 

Athos  looked  at  the  king  as  if  to  interrogate  him. 

"Oh,  .the  history  is  soon  related,"  said  Charles.  "Pro- 
scribed, despoiled,  disdained,  I  resolved,  in  spite  of  all  .my 
repugnance,  to  tempt  fortune  one  last  time.  Is  it  not 
written  above,  that,  for  our  family,  all  good  fortune  and 
all  bad  fortune  shall  eternally  come  from  France?  You 
know  something  of  that,  monsieur — you,  who  are  one  of 
the  Frenchmen  whom  my  unfortunate  father  found  at  the 
foot  of  his  scaffold,  on  the  day  of  his  death,  after  having 
found  them  at  his  right  hand  on  the  day  of  battle.'' 

"Sire,"  said  Athos  modestly,  "I  was  not  alone.  I  and 
my  companions  did,  under  the  circumstances,  our  duty  as 
gentlemen,  and  that  was  all.  You  majesty  was  about  to  do 
me  the  honor  to  relate " 

"That  is  true.  I  had  the  protection — pardon  my  hesita- 
tion, comte,  but,  for  a  Stuart,  you,  who  understand  every- 
thing, you  will  comprehend  that  the  word  is  hard  to  pro- 
nounce— I  had,  I  say,  the  protection  of  my  cousin,  the 
stadtholder  of  Holland;  but  without  the  intervention,  or, 
at  least,  without  the  authorization  of  France,  the  stadt- 
holder would  not  take  the  initiative.  I  came,  then,  to  ask 
this  authorization  of  the  King  of  France,  who  has  refused 
me." 

"The  king  has  refused  you,  sire?" 

"Oh,  not  he;  all  justice  must  be  rendered  to  my  younger 
brother  Louis;  but  Monsieur  de  Mazarin " 

Athos  bit  his  lips. 

"You  perhaps  think  I  had  a  right  to  expect  this  refusal?" 
said  the  king,  who  had  remarked  the  movement. 

"That  was,  in  truth,  my  thought,  sire,"  replied  Athos 
respectfully;  "I  know  that  Italian  of  old." 

"Then  I  determined  to  come  to  the  test,  and  know  at 
once  the  last  word  of  my  destiny.  I  told  my  brother  Louis, 
that,  not  to  compromise  either  France  or  Holland,  I  would 
tempt  fortune  myself  in  person,  as  I  had  already  done,  with 


106  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

two  hundred  gentlemen,  if  he  would  give  them  to  me;  and 
a  million,  if  he  would  lend  it  me." 

"Well,  sire?" 

"Well,  monsieur,  I  am  suffering  at  this  moment  some- 
thing strange,  and  that  is,  the  satisfaction  of  despair. 
Tli ere  is  in  certain  souls — and  I  have  just  discovered  that 
mine  is  of  the  number — a  real  satisfaction  in  that  assurance 
that  all  is  lost,  and  the  time  is  come  to  yield." 

"Oh,  I  hope,"said  Athos,  "that  your  majesty  is  not  come 
to  that  extremity." 

"To  say  so,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  to  endeavor  to  revive 
hope  in  my  heart,  you  must  have  ill  understood  what  I  have 
just  told  you.  I  came  to  Blois  to  ask  of  my  brother  Louis 
the  alms  of  a  million,  with  which  I  had  the  hopes  of  re- 
establishing my  affairs;  and  my  brother  Louis  has  refused 
me.     You  see,  then,  plainly,  that  all  is  lost." 

"Will  your  majesty  permit  me  to  express  a  contrary 
opinion?" 

"How  is  that,  comte?  Do  you  take  me  for  a  mind  vulgar 
to  such  a  degree  as  not  to  know  how  to  confront  my  posi- 
tion?" 

"Sire,  I  have  always  seen  that  it  was  in  desperate  posi- 
tions that  suddenly  the  great  turns  of  fortune  have  taken 
place." 

"Thank  you,  comte;  it  is  some  comfort  to  meet  with  a 
heart  like  yours;  that  is  to  say,  sufficiently  trustful  in  God 
and  in  monarchy  never  to  despair  of  a  royal  fortune,  how- 
ever low  it  may  be  fallen.  Unfortunately,  my  dear  comte, 
your  words  are  like  those  remedies  they  call  'sovereign,' 
and  which,  notwithstanding,  being  only  able  to  cure  cura- 
ble wounds  or  diseases,  fail  against  death.  Thank  you  for 
your  perseverance  in  consoling  me,  comte,  thanks  for  your 
devoted  remembrance,  but  I  know  what  I  have  to  trust  to 
— nothing  will  save  me  now.  And  see,  my  friend,  I  was  so 
convinced  that  I  was  taking  the  route  of  exile  with  my  old 
Parry;  I  was  returning  to  devour  my  poignant  griefs  in  the 
little  hermitage  offered  me  by  Holland.  There,  believe 
me,  comte,  all  will  soon  be  over,  and  death  will  come 
quickly;  it  is  called  for  so  often  by  this  body,  which  the 
soul  gnaws,  and  by  this  soul,  which  aspires  to  heaven." 

"Your  majesty  has  a  mother,  a  sister,  and  brothers;  your 
majesty  is  the  head  of  the  family;  you  ought,  therefore,  to 
ask  a  long  life  of  God,  instead  of  imploring  Him  for  a 
prompt  death.  Your  majesty  is  proscribed,  a  fugitive,  but 
you  have  right  on  your  side,  you  ought  to  aspire  to  com- 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  107 

bats,  dangers,  business,  and  not  to  the  repose  of  the 
heavens." 

"Comte,"  said  Charles  II.,  with  a  smile  of  indescribable 
sadness,  "have  you  ever  heard  of  a  king  who  reconquered  his 
kingdom  with  one  servant  of  the  age  of  Parry,  and  with 
three  hundred  crowns  which  that  servant  carried  in  his 
purse?" 

"No,  sire;  but  I  have  heard — and  that  more  than  once — 
that  a  dethroned  king  has  recovered  his  kingdom  with  a 
firm  will,  perseverance,  some  friends,  and  a  million  skill- 
fully employed." 

"But  you  cannot  have  understood  me.  The  million  I 
asked  of  my  brother  Louis,  he  has  refused  me." 

"Sire,"  said  Athos,  "will  your  majesty  grant  me  a  few 
minutes,  and  listen  attentively  to  what  remains  for  me  to 
say  to  you?" 

Charles  II.  looked  earnestly  at  Athos. 

"Willingly,  monsieur,"  said  he. 

"Then  I  will  show  your  majesty  the  way,"  resumed  the 
comte,  directing  his  steps  toward  the  house.  He  then  con- 
ducted the  king  to  his  closet,  and  begged  him  to  be  seated. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "your  majesty  just  now  told  me  that, 
in  the  present  state  of  England,  a  million  would  suffice  for 
the  recovery  of  your  kingdom." 

"To  attempt" it  at  least,  monsieur;  and  to  die  as  a  king 
if  I  should  not  succeed." 

"Well,  then,  sire,  let  your  majesty,  according  to  the 
promise  you  have  made  me,  have  the  goodness  to  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say."  Charles  made  an  affirmative  sign 
with  his  head.  Athos  walked  straight  up  to  the  door,  the 
bolts  of  which  he  drew,  after  having  looked  if  anybody  was 
near,  and  then  returned.  "Sire,"  said  he  "your  majesty 
has  kindly  remembered  that  I  lent  assistance  to  the  very 
noble  and  very  unfortunate  Charles  I.  when  his  executioners 
conducted  him  from  St.  James'  to  Whitehall." 

"Yes,  certainly,  I  do  remember  it,  and  always  shall  re- 
member it." 

"Sire,  it  is  a  dismal  history  for  a  son  to  listen  to,  and 
who,  no  doubt,  has  had  it  related  to  him  many  times;  and 
yet  I  ought  to  repeat  it  to  your  majesty  without  omitting 
one  detail." 

"Speak  on,  monsieur." 

"When  the  king,  your  father,  ascended  the  scaffold,  or, 
rather.,  when  he  passed  from  his  chamber  to  the  scaffold, 
even  with  his  window,  everything  was  prepared  for  his 


108  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOSTNE. 

escape.  The  executioner  was  got  out  of  the  way;  a  hole 
contrived  under  the  floor  of  his  apartment;  I  myself  waa 
beneath  the  funeral  vault,  which  I  heard  all  at  once  creak 
beneath  his  feet." 

"Parry  has  related  to  me  all  these  terrible  details,  mon- 
sieur." 

Athos  bowed,  and  resumed: 

"But  here  is  something  he  has  not  related  to  you,  sire, 
for  what  follows  passed  between  God,  your  father,  and  my- 
self 3  and  never  has  the  revelation  of  it  been  made  even  to 
my  dearest  friends.  'Go  a  little  further  off,'  said  the 
august  patient  to  the  executioner;  'it  is  but  for  an  instant, 
and  I  know  that  I  belong  to  you;  but  remember  not  to 
strike  till  I  give  the  signal.  I  wish  to  offer  up  my  prayers 
in  freedom.'  " 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Charles  II.,  turning  very  pale,  "but 
you,  comte,  who  know  so  many  details  of  this  melancholy 
event — details  which,  as  you  said  just  now,  have  never  been 
revealed  to  anyone — do  you  know  the  name  of  that  infernal 
executioner,  of  that  base  wretch  who  concealed  his  face  that 
he  might  assassinate  a  king  with  impunity?" 

Athos  became  slightly  pale. 

"His  name?"  said  he;  "yes,  I  know  it,  but  I  cannot  tell 
it." 

"And  what  is  become  of  him,  for  nobody  in  England 
knows  his  destiny?" 

"He  is  dead." 

"But  he  did  not  die  in  his  bed;  he  did  not  die  a  calm  and 
peaceful  death;  he  did  not  die  the  death  of  the  good?" 

"He  died  a  violent  death,  in  a  terrible  night,  rendered  so 
by  the  passions  of  man  and  a  tempest  from  God.  His  body,, 
pierced  by  a  poniard,  sunk  to  the  depths  of  the  ocean. 
God  pardon  his  murderer!" 

"Proceed,  then,"  said  Charles  II.,  seeing  that  the  comte 
was  unwilling  to  say  more. 

"The  King  of  England,  after  having,  as  I  have  said, 
spoken  thus  to  the  masked  executioner,  added:  'Observe, 
you  will  not  strike  till  I  shall  stretch  out  my  arms,  saying 
—  Remember!'  " 

"I  was  aware,"  said  Charles,  in  an  agitated  voice,  "that 
that  was  the  last  word  pronounced  by  my  unfortunate 
father.     But  with  what  aim — for  whom?" 

"For  the  French  gentleman  placed  beneath  his  scaffold." 

"For  you,  then,  monsieur?" 

"Yos,  sire;  and  every  one  of  the  words  which  he  spoke  to 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BKAGELOffKE.  109 

me,  through  the  planks  of  the  scaffold  covered  with  a  black 
cloth,  still  sounds  in  my  ears.  The  king  knelt  down  on 
one  knee:  'Comte  de  la  Fere,'  said  he,  'are  you  there?' 
'Yes,  sire,'  replied  I.  Then  the  king  stooped  toward  the 
boards." 

Charles  II.,  also  palpitating  with  interest,  burning  with 
grief,  stooped  toward  Athos,  to  catch,  one  by  one,  every 
word  that  escaped  from  him.  His  head  touched  that  of  the 
comte. 

"Then,"  continued  Athos,  "the  king  stooped.  'Comte 
de  la  Fere,'  said  he,  'it  is  not  possible  to  be  saved  by  you, 
it  is  not  to  be.  Now,  even  though  I  commit  a  sacrilege,  I 
must  speak  to  you.  Yes,  I  have  spoken  to  men — yes,  I 
have  spoken  to  God,  and  I  speak  to  you  the  last.  By  sup. 
porting  a  cause  which  I  thought  sacred,  I  have  lost  the 
throne  of  my  father,  and  diverted  the  heritage  of  my 
children.'  " 

Charles  II.  concealed  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  a  bitter 
tear  glided  between  his  white  and  slender  fingers. 

"  'I  have  still  a  million  left,'  continued  the  king.  'I 
buried  it  in  the  vaults  of  the  Castle  of  Newcastle,  a  moment 
before  I  quitted  that  city.'  "  Charles  raised  his  head  with 
an  expression  of  such  painful  joy  as  would  have  drawn  tears 
from  any  one  acquainted  with  his  misfortunes. 

'A  million!"  murmured  he.     "Oh,  comte!" 

"  'You  alone  know  that  this  money  exists;  employ  it 
when  you  think  it  can  be  of  the  greatest  service  to  my 
eldest  son.     And  now,  Comte  de  la  Fere,  bid  me  adieu!' " 

"  'Adieu,  adieu,  sire!'  cried  1." 

Charles  arose,  and  went  and  leaned  his  burning  bi'ow 
against  the  window. 

"It  was  then,"  continued  Athos,  "the  king  pronounced 
the  word  'Remember!'  addressed  to  me.  You  see,  sire, 
that  I  have  remembered." 

The  king  could  not  resist  or  conceal  his  emotion.  Athos 
beheld  the  movement  of  his  shoulders,  which  undulated 
convulsively;  he  heard  the  sobs  which  burst  from  his  over- 
charged breast.  He  was  silent  himself,  suffocated  by  the 
flood  of  bitter  remembrances  he  had  just  poured  upon  that 
royal  head.  Charles  II.,  with  a  violent  effort,  left  the  win- 
dow, devoured  his  tears,  and  came  and  reseated  himself  by 
Athos. 

"Sire,"  said  the  latter,  "I  thought  till  to-day  that  the 
time  was  not  yet  arrived  for  the  employment  of  that  last 
resource;  but,  with  my  eyes  fixed  upon  England,  I  thought 


110  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONKE. 

it  was  approaching.  To-morrow  I  meant  to  go  and  inquire 
in  what  part  of  the  world  your  majesty  was,  and  then  I 
purposed  going  to  you.  You  come  to  me,  sire;  that  is  an 
indication  that  God  is  with  us." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Charles,  in  a  voice  choked  by  emotion, 
"you  are,  for  me,  what  an  angel  sent  from  heaven  would  be 
— you  are  a  preserver,  sent  to  me  from  the  tomb  of  my 
father  himself;  but,  believe  me,  since  ten  years  of  civil  war 
have  passed  over  my  country,  striking  down  men,  tearing 
up  the  soil,  it  is  no  more  probable  thatNgold  should  remain 
in  the  entrails  of  the  earth  than  love  in  the  hearts  of  my 
subjects." 

"Sire,  the  spot  in  which  his  majesty  buried  the  million  is 
well  known  to  me,  and  no  one,  I  am  sure,  has  been  able  to 
discover  it.  Besides,  is  the  Castle  of  Newcastle  quite 
destroyed?  Have  they  demolished  it  stone  by  stone,  and 
uprooted  the  soil  to  the  last  tree?" 

"No,  it  is  still  standing;  but  at  this  moment  General 
Monk  occupies  it,  and  is  encamped  there.  The  only  spot 
from  which  I  could  look  for  succor,  where  I  possess  a  single 
resource,  you  see,  is  invaded  by  my  enemies." 

"General  Monk,  sire,  cannot  have  passed  the  treasure  I 
speak  of." 

"Yes,  but  can  I  go  and  deliver  myself  up  to  Monk,  in 
order  to  recover  this  treasure?  Ah,  comte,  you  see  plainly 
I  must  yield  to  destiny,  since  it  strikes  me  to  the  earth 
every  time  I  rise.  What  can  I  do  with  Parry  as  my  only 
servant,  with  Parry,  whom  Monk  has  already  driven  from 
his  presence?  No,  no,  no,  comte,  we  must  yield  to  this 
last  blow." 

"But  what  your  majesty  cannot  do,  and  what  Parry  can 
no  more  attempt,  do  you  not  believe  that  I  could  succeed 
in?" 

"You — you,  comte — you  would  go?" 

"If  it  please  your  majesty,"  said  Athos,  bowing  to  the 
king:  "yes,  I  will  go,  sire." 

"What,  you  are  so  happy  here,  comte?" 

"I  am  never  happy  when  I  have  a  duty  left  to  accom- 
plish, and  it  is  an  imperative  duty  which  the  king,  your 
father,  left  me'  to  watch  over  your  fortunes,  and  make  a 
royal  use  of  his  money.  So,  if  your  majesty  honors  me  with 
a  sign  1  will  go  with  you." 

"Ah,  monsieur!"  said  the  king,  forgetting  all  royal 
etiquette,  and  throwing  his  arms  round  the  neck  of  Athos, 
''you  prove  to  me  that  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  and  that 


THE  VICOMTE*  DE  BRAGELONNE.  Ill 

this  God  sometimes  sends  messengers  to  the  unfortunate 
who  groan  upon  the  earth." 

Athos,  exceedingly  moved  by  this  burst  of  feeling  of  the 
young  man,  thanked  him  with  profound  respect,  and  ap- 
proached the  window. 

"Grimaud!"  cried  he,  "bring  out  my  horses." 

"What,  now — immediately?"  said  the  king.  "Ah,  mon- 
sieur, yon  are  indeed  a  wonderful  man." 

"Sire,"  said  Athos,  "I  know  of  nothing  more  pressing 
than  your  majesty's  service.  Besides,"  added  he,  smiling, 
"it  is  a  habit  contracted  long  since,  in  the  service  of  the 
queen,  your  aunt,  and  of  the  king,  your  father.  How  is  it 
possible  for  me  to  lose  it  at  the  moment  your  majesty's 
service  calls  for  it?" 

"What  a  man!"  murmured  the  king. 

Then,  after  a  moment's  reflection: 

"But  no,  comte,  I  cannot  expose  you  to  such  privations. 
I  have  no  means  of  rewaidmg  such  services." 

"Bah!"  said  Athos,  laughing.  "Your  majesty  is  joking; 
have  you  not  a  million?  Ah!  why  am  I  not  possessed  of 
the  half  of  such  a  sum?  I  would  already  have  raised  a 
regiment.  But,  thank  God,  I  have  still  a  few  rouleaus  of 
gold  and  some  family  diamonds  left.  Your  majesty  will,  I 
hope,  deign  to  share  with  a  devoted  servant." 

"With  a  friend — yes,  comte;  but  on  condition  that,  in 
his  turn,  that  friend  will  share  with  me  hereafter." 

"Sire,"  said  Athos,  opening  a  casket,  from  which  he 
drew  both  gold  and  jewels,  "you  see,  sire,  we  are  too  rich. 
Fortunately,  there  are  four  of  us,  in  the  event  of  meeting 
with  thieves." 

Joy  made  the  blood  rush  to  the  pale  cheeks  of  Charles  II., 
as  he  saw  Athos'  two  horses,  led  by  Grimaud,  already  booted 
for  the  journey,  advance  toward  the  peristyle. 

"Blaisois,  this  letter  for  the  Vicomte  de  Bragelonne. 
For  everybody  else  I  am  gone  to  Paris.  I  confide  the  house 
to  you,  Blaisois." 

Blaisois  bowed,  shook  hands  with  Grimaud,  and  shut  the 
gate 


112  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

IN   WHICH  ARAMIS   IS  SOUGHT  FOR  AND  ONLY  BAZIN  FOUND. 

Two  hours  had  scarcely  passed  away  after  the  departure 
of  the  master  of  the  house,  who,  in  Blaisois'  sight,  had 
taken  the  road  to  Paris,  when  a  cavalier,  mounted  on  a  good 
pied  horse,  stopped  before  the  gate,  and  with  a  sonorous 
"hola!"  called  the  horse-boys,  who,  with  the  gardeners, 
had  formed  a  circle  round  Blaisois,  the  historian  in  ordinary 
to  the  household  of  the  chateau.  This  "hold,!"  doubtless 
well  known  to  Master  Blaisois,  made  him  turn  his  head  and 
exclaim: 

"Monsieur  d'Artagnan!  Run  quickly,  you  chaps,  and 
open  the  gate." 

A  swarm  of  eight  brisk  lads  flew  to  the  gate,  which  was 
opened  as  if  it  had  been  made  of  feathers;  and  every  one 
loaded  him  with  attentions,  for  they  knew  the  welcome  this 
friend  was  accustomed  to  receive  from  their  master;  and 
for  such  remarks  the  eye  of  the  valet  may  always  be  de- 
pended upon. 

"Ah!"  said  M.  d'Artagnan,  with  an  agreeable  smile, 
balancing  himself  upon  his  stirrup  to  jump  to  the  ground, 
"where  is  my  dear  comte?" 

"Ah,  how  unfortunate  you  are,  monsieur!"  said  Blaisois; 
"and  how  unfortunate  will  Monsieur  le  Comte,  our  master, 
think  himself  when  he  hears  of  your  coming!  By  bad  luck, 
Monsieur  le  Comte  left  home  two  hours  ago." 

D'Artagnan  did  not  trouble  himself  about  such  trifles. 

"Very  good,"  said  he.  "You  always  speak  the  best 
French  in  the  world;  you  shall  give  me  a  lesson  in  grammar 
and  correct  language,  while  I  await  the  return  of  your 
master." 

"That  is  impossible,  monsieur,"  said  Blaisois;  "you 
would  have  to  wait  too  long." 

"Will  he  not  come  back  to-day,  then?" 

"No,  nor  to-morrow,  nor  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Mon- 
sieur le  Comte  is  gone  a  journey." 

"A  journey!''  said  D'Artagnan,  surprised;  "that's  a 
fable,  Master  Blaisois." 

"Monsieur,  it  is  no  more  than  the  truth.     Monsieur  has 
done  me  the  honor  to  commit  the  house  to  my  charge;  and 
he  added,  with  his  voice  so  full  of  authority  and  kindness- 
that  is  all  one  to  me.  'You  will  say  I  am  gone  to  Paris.' ' 

"Well!"  cried  D'Artagnan,   "since  he    is   gone   toward 


THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGBLONNE.  113 

Parish  that  is  all  I  want  to  know.  Yon  should  have  told  me 
so  at  first,  booby!     He  is  then  two  hours  in  advance?'5 

"Yes,  monsieur.." 

"I  shall  soon  overtake  him.     Is  he  alone?" 

"No,  monsieur." 

"Who  is  with  him  then?" 

"A  gentleman  whom  I  don't  know,,  an  old  man,  and 
Monsieur  Grimaud." 

"Such  a  party  cannot  travel  as  fast  as  I  can — I  will  start." 

"Will  monsieur  listen  to  me  an  instant?"  said  Blaisois, 
laying  his  hand  gently  on  the  reins  of  the  horse. 

"Yes,  if  your  don't  favor  me  with  fine  speeches,  and 
make  haste." 

"Well,  then,  monsieur,  that  word  Paris  appears  to  me  to 
be  only  a  lure." 

"Oh,  oh!"  said  D'Artagnan  seriously,  "a  lure,  eh?" 

"Yes,  monsieur;  and  Monsieur  le  Comte  is  not  going  to 
Paris,  I  will  swear." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"This — Monsieur  Grimaud  always  knows  where  our  mas- 
ter is  going;  and  he  had  promised  me  that  the  first  time  he 
went  to  Paris  he  would  take  a  little  money  for  me  to  my 
wife.'r' 

"What,  have  you  a  wife,  then?" 

"I  had  one — she  was  of  this  country;  but  monsieur 
thought  her  a  noisy  scold,  and  I  sent  her  to  Paris;  it  is 
sometimes  inconvenient,  but  very  agreeable  at  others." 

"I  understand;  but  go  on.  You  do  not  believe  the  comte 
is  gone  to  Paris?" 

"No,  monsieur;  for  then  Monsieur  Grimaud  would  have 
broken  his  word,  he  would  have  been  perjured — and  that  is 
impossible." 

"That  is  impossible,"  repeated  D'Artagnan,  quite  in  a 
study,  because  he  was  quite  convinced.  "Well,  my  brave 
Blaisois,  many  thanks  to  you," 

Blaisois  bowed. 

"Come,  you  know  I  am  not  curious — I  have  serious  busi- 
ness with  your  master.  Could  you  not,  by  a  little  end  of  a 
word — you,  who  speak  so  well — give  me  to  understand — 
one  syllable  only — I  will  guess  the  rest." 

"Upon  my  word,  monsieur,  I  cannot.  I  am  quite  igno- 
rant where  Monsieur  le  Comte  is  gone  to.  As  to  listening  at 
doors,  that  is  contrary  to  my  nature;  and,  besides,  it  is  for- 
bidden here." 

"My  dear  lad,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "this  is  a  very  bad  be- 


J  14  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

ginning  for  me.  Never  mind;  you  know  when  Monsieur  le 
Comte  will  return,  at  least?" 

"As  little,  monsieur,  as  the  place  of  his  destination." 

"Come,  Blaisois,  come,  search." 

"Monsieur  doubts  my  sincerity?  Ah,  monsieur,  that 
grieves  me  sensibly." 

"The  devil  take  his  gilded  tongue!"  grumbled  D'Artag- 
nan.  "A  clown  with  a  word  would  be  worth  a  dozen  oi 
him.     Adieu!" 

"Monsieur,  I  have  the  honor  to  present  you  my  respectL  '■ 

"Cuistre!"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "the  fellow  is 
insupportable."  He  gave  another  look  up  to  the  house, 
turned  his  horse's  head,  and  set  off  like  a  man  who  has 
nothing  either  annoying  or  embarrassing  on  his  mind. 
When  he  was  at  the  end  of  the  wall,  and  out  of  sight: 
"Well,  now,  I  wonder,"  said  he,  breathing  quickly, 
"whether  Athos  was  at  home.  No;  all  those  idlers,  stand- 
ing with  their  arms  crossed,  would  have  been  at  work  if  the 
eye  of  the  master  was  near.  Athos  gone  a  journey? — that 
is  incomprehensible.  Bah!  it  is  all  devilish  mysterious. 
And  then — no — he  is  not  the  man  I  want.  I  want  one  of  a 
cunning,  patient  mind.  My  business  is  at  Melun,  in  a  cer- 
tain presbytery  I  am  acquainted  with.  Forty-five  leagues — ■ 
four  days  and  a  half.  Well,  it  is  fine  weather,  and  I  am 
free.     Never  mind  distance." 

And  he  put  his  horse  into  a  trot,  directing  his  course 
toward  Paris.  On  the  fourth  day  he  alighted  at  Melun,  as 
he  had  intended. 

D'Artagnan  was  never  accustomed  to  ask  anybody  the 
road,  or  for  any  common  information.  For  these  sorts  of 
details,  unless  in  very  serious  circumstances,  he  confided  in 
his  perspicacity,  which  was  so  seldom  at  fault,  in  his  ex- 
perience of  thirty  years,  and  in  a  great  habit  of  reading  the 
physiognomies  of  houses,  as  well  as  those  of  men.  At 
Melun,  D'Artagnan  directly  found  the  presbytery — a  charm- 
ing house,  plastered  over  red  brick,  with  vines  climbing 
along  the  gutters,  and  a  cross  in  sculptured  stone,  sur- 
mounting the  ridge  of  the  roof.  From  the  ground  floor  of 
this  house  escaped  a  noise,  or,  rather,  a  confusion  of  voices, 
like  the  chirping  of  young  birds  when  the  brood  is  just 
hatched  under  the  doAvn.  One  of  these  voices  was  spelling 
the  alphabet  distinctly.  A  voice,  thick,  but  yet  pleasant, 
at  the  same  time  scolded  the  talkers  and  corrected  the 
faults  of  the  reader.  D'Artagnan  recognized  that  voice, 
and  as  the  window  of  the  ground  floor  was  open,  he  leaned 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOtfNE.  115 

down  from  his  horse  under  the  branches  and  red  fibers  of 
the  vine,  and  cried: 

"Bazin,  my  dear  Bazin!  good-day  to  you." 

A  short  fat  man,  with  a  flat  face,  a  cranium  ornamented 
with  a  crown  of  gray  hairs,  cut  short,  in  imitation  of  a  ton- 
sure, and  covered  with  an  old  black  velvet  cap,  arose  as  soon 
as  he  heard  D'Artagnan — we  ought  not  to  say  arose,  but 
bounded  up.  In  fact,  Bazin  bounded  up,  drawing  with  him, 
his  little  low  chair,  which  the  children  tried  to  take  away, 
with  battles  more  fierce  than  those  of  the  Greeks  endeavor- 
ing to  recover  the  body  of  Patroclus  from  the  hands  of  the 
Trojans.  Bazin  did  more  than  bound;  he  let  fall  both  his 
alphabet,  and  his  ferule. 

"You!"  said  he;  "you,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan?" 

"Yes,  myself.  Where  is  Aramis — no,  Monsieur  le  Cheva- 
iier  d'Herblay — no,  I  am  still  mistaken — Monsieur  le 
Vicaire-Gen  eral  ?" 

"Ah,  monsieur,"  said  Bazin,  with  dignity,  "monseigneur 
is  at  his  diocese." 

"What  did  you  say?"  said  D'Artagnan. 
Bazin  repeated  the  sentence. 

"Ah!  ah!  but  has  Aramis  a  diocese?" 

"Yes,  monsieur.     Why  not?" 

"Is  he  a  bishop,  then?" 

"Why,  where  can  you  come  from,"  said  Bazin,  rather 
irreverently,  "that  you  don't  know  that?" 

"My  dear  Bazin,  we  pagans,  we  men  of  the  sword,  know 
very  well  when  a  man  is  made  a  colonel,  or  mestre-de-ca?np, 
or  mareclial,  of  France;  but  if  he  be  made  a  bishop,  arch- 
bishop, or  pope — devil  take  me,  if  the  news  reaches  us  be- 
fore three-quarters  of  the  earth  have  had  the  advantage  of 
it!"  * 

"Hush!  hush!"  said  Bazin,  opening  his  eyes;  "do  not 
spoil  these  poor  children,  in  whom  I  am  endeavoring  to 
inculcate  such  good  principles.  In  fact,  the  children  had 
surrounded  D'Artagnan,  whose  horse,  long  sword,  spurs, 
and  martial  air  they  very  much  admired.  But,  above  all, 
they  admired  his  strong  voice;  so  that,  when  he  uttered  his 
oath,  the  whole  school  cried  out:  "The  devil  take  me!" 
with  fearful  bursts  of  laughter,  shouts,  and  stamping,  as 
delighted  the  musketeer,  and  bewildered  the  old  pedagogue. 

"There!"  said  he,  "hold  your  tongues,  you  brats!  You 
are  come,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  and  all  my  good  principles 
fly  away.  '  With  you,  as  usual,  comes  disorder.  Babel  is 
revived.     Ah,  good   Lord!     Ah,  the  wild  little  wretches!'1 


116  THE   YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONtfE. 

And  the  worthy  Bazin  distributed  right  and  left  blows  which 
redoubled  the  cries  of  his  scholars  by  making  them  change 
the  nature  of  them. 

"At  least/'  said  he,  "you  can  no  more  debauch  any  one 
here." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  D'Artagnan,  with  a  smile  which 
made  a  shudder  creep  over  the  shoulders  of  Bazin. 

"He  is  capable  of  it,"  murmured  he. 

"Where  is  your  master's  diocese ?" 
i     "Monseigneur  Bene  is  Bishop  of  Vannes." 

"Who  caused  him  to  be  nominated?" 

"Why,  Monsieur  le  Surintendant,  our  neighbor." 

"What,  Monsieur  Fouquet?" 

"To  be  sure  he  did." 

"Is  Aramis  on  good  terms  with  him,  then?" 

"Monseigneur  preached  every  Sunday  at  the  house  of 
Monsieur  le  Surintendant  at  Vaux;  then  they  hunted  to- 
gether." 

"Ah!" 

"And  monseigneur  composed  his  homilies — no  I  mean 
his  sermons — with  Monsieur  le  Surintendant." 

"Bah!  he  preached  in  verse,  then,  this  worthy  bishop?" 

"Monsieur,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  do  not  jest  with, 
sacred  things." 

"There,  Bazin,  there!     So,  then,  Aramis  is  at  Vannes?" 

"At  Vannes,  in  Bretagne." 

"You  are  a  deceitful  old  hunks,  Bazin;  that  is  not  true." 

"See,  monsieur,  if  you  please;  the  apartments  of  the 
presbytery  are  empty." 

"He  is  right  there,"  said  D'Artagnan,  looking  attentively 
at  the  house,  the  aspect  of  which  announced  solitude. 

"But  monseigneur  must  have  written  you  an  account  of 
his  promotion." 

"From  when  does  it  date?" 

"A  month  back." 

"Oh!  then  there  is  no  time  lost.  Aramis  cannot  yet  have 
wanted  me.  But  how  is  it,  Bazin,  you  do  not  follow  your 
master?" 

"Monsieur,  I  cannot;  I  have  occupations." 

"Your  alphabet?" 

"And  my  penitents." 

"What,  do  you  confess,  then?    Are  you  a  priest?" 

"The  same  as  one.     I  have  such  a  call." 

"But  the  orders?" 

"Oh,"  said  Bazin,  without  hesitation,  "now  that  mon- 


THE    VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONKE.  117 

•eigneur  is  a  bishop,  I  shall  soon  have  my  orders,  or,  at 
least,  my  dispensations."     And  he  rubbed  his  hands. 

"Decidedly,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "there  will  be 
no  means  of  uprooting  these  people.  Get  me  some  supper, 
Bazin." 

"With  pleasure,  monsieur." 

"A  fowl,  a  bouillon,  and  a  bottle  of  wine." 

"This  is  Saturday,  monsieur — it  is  a,  jour  maigre." 

"I  have  a  dispensation,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

Bazin  looked  at  him  suspiciously. 

"Ah,  ah,  master  hypocrite!"  said  the  musketeer,  "for 
whom  do  you  take  me?  If  you,  who  are  the  valet,  hope  for 
dispensation  for  committing  a  crime,  shall  not  I,  the  friend 
of  your  bishop,  have  dispensation  for  eating  meat  at  the 
call  of  my  stomach?  Make  yourself  agreeable  with  me, 
Bazin,  or,  by  heavens!  I  will  complain  to  the  king,  and  you 
shall  never  confess.  Now,  you  know  that  the  nomination 
of  bishops  rests  with  the  king — I  have  the  king,  I  am  the 
stronger." 

Bazin  smiled  hypocritically. 

"Ah,  but  we  have  Monsieur  le  Surintendant,"  said  he. 

"And  you  laugh  at  the  king,  then?" 

Bazin  made  no  reply;  his  smile  was  sufficiently  eloquent. 

"My  supper,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "it  is  getting  toward 
seven  o'clock." 

Bazin  turned  round  and  ordered  the  eldest  of  the  pupils 
to  inform  the  cook.  In  the  meantime,  D'Artagnan  sur- 
veyed the  presbytery. 

"Pugh!"  said  he  disdainfully,  "monseigneur  lodged  his 
grandeur  but  very  meanly  here." 

"We  have  the  Chateau  de  Vaux,"  said  Bazin. 

"Which  is,  perhaps,  equal  to  the  Louvre?"  said  D'Artag- 
nan jeeringly. 

"Which  is  better,"  replied  Bazin,  with  the  greatest  cool- 
ness imaginable. 

"Ah,  ah!"  said  D'Artagnan. 

He  would,  perhaps,  have  prolonged  the  discussion,  and 
maintained  the  superiority  of  the  Louvre,  but  the  lieutenant 
perceived  that  his  horse  remained  fastened  to  the  bars  of  a 
gate. 

"The  devil!"  said  he.  "Get  my  horse  looked  after;  your 
master  the  bishop  has  none  like  him  in  his  stables." 

Bazin  cast  a  sidelong  glance  at  the  horse,  and  replied: 

"Monsieur  le  Surintendant  gave  him  four  from  his  own 
stables;  and  each  of  the  four  is  worth  four  of  yours,." 


118  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXXE. 

The  blood  mounted  to  the  face  of  D'Artagnan.  His 
hand  itched,  and  his  eye  glanced  over  the  head  of  Bazin,  to 
select  the  place  upon  which  he  should  discharge  his  anger. 
But  it  passed  away;  reflection  came,  and  D'Artagnan  con- 
tented himself  with  saying: 

"The  devil!  the  devil!  I  have  done  well  to  quit  the  serv- 
ice of  the  king.  Tell  mc,  worthy  Master  Bazin,"  added 
he,  "how  many  musketeers  does  Monsieur  le  Surintendant 
retain  in  his  service?" 

"He  could  have  all  there  are  in  the  kingdom  with  his 
money,"  replied  Bazin,  closing  his  book,  and  dismissing 
the  boys  with  some  kindly  stripes  of  his  cane. 

"The  devil!  the  devil!"  repeated  D'Artagnan,  biting 
with  all  his  might  at  the  tough  fowl  they  had  served  up  to 
him,  and  which  they  had  evidently  forgotten  to  fatten;  "it 
appears  to  me  that  I  have  done  wrong  in  not  going  to  take 
service  in  the  suite  of  that  master  yonder.  A  powerful 
noble,  this  intendant,  seemingly.  In  good  truth,  we  poor 
fellows  know  nothing  at  the  court,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun 
prevent  our  seeing  the  large  stars,  which  are  suns  also,  at  a 
little  greater  distance  from  our  earth — that  is  all." 

As  D'Artagnan  delighted,  both  from  pleasure  and  system, 
in  making  people  talk  about  things  which  interested  him, 
he  fenced  in  his  best  style  with  Master  Bazin,  but  it  was 
pure  loss  of  time;  beyond  the  fatiguing  and  hyperbolical 
praises  of  M.  le  Surintendant  of  the  Finances,  Bazin,  who, 
on  his  side,  was  on  his  guard,  afforded  nothing  but  plati- 
tudes to  the  curiosity  of  D'Artagnan,  so  that  our  mus- 
keteer, in  a  tolerably  bad  humor,  desired  to  go  to  bed  as 
soon  as  he  had  supped.  D'Artagnan  was  introduced  by 
Bazin  into  a  mean  chamber,  in  which  there  was  as  poor  a 
bed;  but  D'Artagnan  was  not  fastidious  in  that  respect. 
He  had  been  told  that  Aramis  had  taken  away  the  key  of 
his  own  private  apartment,  and  as  he  knew  Aramis  was  a 
very  particular  man,  and  had  generally  many  things  to  con- 
ceal in  his  apartment,  that  had  not  at  all  astonished  him. 
He  had,  therefore,  although  it  appeared  comparatively  even 
harder,  attacked  the  bed  as  bravely  as  he  had  done  the 
fowl;  and,  as  he  had  as  good  an  inclination  to  sleep  as  he 
had  had  to  eat,  he  uook  scarcely  longer  time  to  be  snoring 
harmoniously  than  he  had  employed  in  picking  the  last 
bones  of  the  bird. 

Since  he  was  no  longer  in  the  service  of  any  one,  D'Ar- 
tagnan had  promised  himself  to  indulge  in  sleeping  as 
soundly  as  he  had  formerly  slept  lightly;  but  with  whatever 


THE   VIGOMTB    DE   BRACxELOlOrE.  119 

good  faith  D'Artagnan  had  made  himself  this  promise,  and 
whatever  desire  he  might  have  to  keep  it  religiously,  he 
was  awakened  in  the  middle  of  the  night  by  a  loud  noise  of 
carriages  and  servants  on  horseback.  A  sudden  illumina- 
tion flashed  over  the  walls  of  his  chamber:  he  jumped  out 
of  bed  and  ran  to  the  window  in  his  shirt. 

"Can  the  king  be  coming  this  way?"  he  thought,  rub- 
bing his  eyes;  "in  truth,  such  a  suite  can  only  be  attached 
to  royalty." 

"Vive  Monsieur  le  Surintendant!"  cried,  or,  rather, 
vociferated,  from  a  window  on  the  ground  floor,  a  voice 
which  he  recognized  as  Bazin's,  who,  while  so  crying,  waved 
a  handkerchief  with  one  hand  and  held  a  large  candle  in 
the  other.  D'Artagnan  then  saw  something  like  a  brilliant 
human  form  leaning  out  at  the  window  of  the  principal 
carriage;  at  the  same  time  loud  bursts  of  laughter,  pro- 
voked, no  doubt,  by  the  strange  figure  of  Bazin,  and  which 
issued  from  the  same  carriage,  left,  as  it  were,  a  train  of  joy 
upon  the  passage  of  the  rapid  cortege. 

"I  might  easily  see  it  was  not  the  king,"  said  D'Artag- 
nan; "people  don't  laugh  so  heartily  when  the  king  passes. 
Hold,  Bazin!"  cried  he  to  his  neighbor,  who  was  still  lean- 
ing three  parts  out  of  the  window,  to  follow  the  carriage 
with  his  eyes  as  long  as  he  could.  "What  is  all  that 
about?" 

"It  is  Monsieur  Fouquet,"  said  Bazin,  in  a  patronizing 
tone. 

"And  all  his  people?" 

"That  is  the  court  of  Monsieur  Fouquet." 

"Oh,  oh!"  said  D'Artagnan;  "what  would  Monsieur  de 
Mazarin  say  to  that  if  he  heard  it?"  And  he  returned  to 
his  truckle-bed,  asking  himself  how  Aramis  always  con- 
trived to  be  protected  by  the  most  powerful  persons  in  the 
kingdom.  "Is  it  that  he  has  more  luck  than  I,  or  that  I 
am  a  greater  fool  than  he?  Bah!"  That  was  the  conclud- 
ing word  by  the  aid  of  which  D'Artagnan,  become  wise: 
now  terminated  every  thought  and  every  period  of  his  style. 
Formerly  he  said,  '  Mordioux!"  which  was  a  prick  of  the 
spur,  but  now  he  had  become  older,  and  he  murmured  that 
philosophical  "Bah!"  which  served  as  a  bridle  to  all  the 
p»RKionf 


120  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 

IK     WHICH     D'ARTGNAN     SEEKS    FOR     PORTHOS,    AND    ONLS 
FINDS  MOUSQUETON. 

When  D'Artagnan  had  perfectly  convinced  himself  that 
the  absence  of  the  Vicaire-General  d'Herblay  was  real,  and 
that  his  friend  was  not  to  be  found  at  Melun,  or  in  its 
environs,  he  left  Bazin  without  regret,  gave  an  ill-natured 
glance  at  the  magnificant  Chateau  de  Vaux,  which  was  be- 
ginning to  shine  with  that  splendor  which  brought  on  its 
ruin,  and,  compressing  his  lips  like  a  man  full  of  mistrust 
and  suspicion,  he  put  spurs  to  his  pied  horse,  saying: 

"Well,  well!  I  have  still  Pierrefonds  left,  and  there  I 
shall  find  the  best  man  and  the  best-filled  coffer.  And  that 
is  all  I  want,  for  I  have  an  idea  of  my  own." 

We  will  spare  our  readers  the  prosaic  incidents  of  D'Ar- 
tagnan's  journey,  which  terminated  on  the  morning  of  the 
third  day  within  sight  of  Pierrefonds.  D'Artagnan  came  by 
the  way  of  Nanteuil-le-Hardouin  and  Crepy.  At  a  distance 
he  perceived  the  Castle  d'Orleans,  which,  having  become 
part  of  the  crown  domain,  was  kept  by  an  old  concierge. 
This  was  one  of  those  marvelous  manors  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  with  walls  twenty  feet  in  thickness,  and  a  hundred  in 
height.  D'Artagnan  rode  slowly  past  its  walls,  measured 
its  towers  with  his  eyes,  and  descended  into  the  valley. 
From  a  distance  he  looked  down  upon  the  chateau  of  Por- 
thos,  situated  on  the  shores  of  a  small  lake,  and  contiguous 
to  a  magnificent  forest.  It  was  the  same  place  we  have 
already  had  the  'lonor  of  describing  to  our  readers;  we 
shall,  therefore,  satisfy  ourselves  with  naming  it.  The 
first  thing  D'Artagnan  perceived  after  the  fine  trees,  the 
sun  of  May  gilding  the  sides  of  the  green  hills,  long  rows  of 
feather-topped  wood  which  stretched  out  toward  Com- 
piegne,  was  a  large  rolling  box  pushed  forward  by  two  serv- 
ants and  dragged  by  two  others.  In  this  box  there  was  an 
enormous  green-and-gold  thing,  which  stole  along  the  smil- 
ing glades  of  the  park,  thus  dragged  and  pushed.  This 
thing,  at  a  -distance,  was  not  to  be  made  out,  and  signified 
absolutely  nothing;  nearer,  it  was  a  tun  muffled  in  gold- 
bound  green  cloth;  when  close,  it  was  a  man,  or,  rather,  a 
ponssa,  the  inferior  extremity  of  which,  spreading  over  the 
interior  of  the  box,  entirely  filled  it;  when  still  closer,  the 
man  was  Mousqueton — Mousqueton,  with  gray  hair  and  a 
'ace  as  red  as  Punchinello's, 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  121 

"Pardieu!"  cried  D'Artagnan;  "why,  that's  my  dear 
Monsieur  Mousqueton!" 

"Ah!"  cried  the  fat  man — "ah!  what  happiness!  what 
joy!     There's  Monsieur  d'Artagnan.     Stop,  you  rascals!" 

These  last  words  were  addressed  to  the  lackeys  who 
pushed  and  dragged  him.  The  box  stopped,  and  the  four 
lackeys,  with  a  precision  quite  military,  took  off  their  laced 
hats  and  ranged  themselves  behind  it. 

"Oh,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan!"  said  Mousqueton,  "why 
can  I  not  embrace  your  knees?  But  I  am  become  impotent, 
as  you  see." 

h'Dame!  my  dear  Mousqueton,  it  is  age." 

"No,  monsieur,  it  is  not  age;  it  is  infirmities — troubles." 

"Troubles — you,  Mousqueton?"  said  D'Artagnan,  mak- 
ing the  tour  of  the  box.  "Are  you  out  of  your  mind,  my 
dear  friend?  Thank  God!  you  are  as  hearty  as  a  three- 
hundred-year-old  oak." 

"Ah!    but  my  legs,   monsieur,  my   legs!"  groaned   the 
faithful  servant. 
•    "What's  the  matter  with  your  legs?" 

"Oh,  they  will  no  longer  bear  me!" 

"Ah,  the  ingrates!  And  yet  you  feed  them  well,  Mous- 
queton, apparently." 

"Alas!  yes.  They  have  nothing  to  reproach  me  with  in 
that  respect,"  said  Mousqueton,  with  a  sigh;  "I  have  al- 
ways done  what  I  could  for  my  poor  body;  I  am  not  selfish." 
And  Mousqueton  sighed  afresh. 

"I  wonder  whether  Mousqueton  wants  to  be  a  baron,  too, 
as  he  sighs  after  that  fashion?"  thought  D'Artagnan. 

"Mo?i  Dieu  !  monsieur,"  said  Mousqueton,  as  if  rousing 
himself  from  a  painful  reverie,  "how  happy  monseigneur 
will  be  that  you  have  thought  of  him!" 

"Kind  Porthos!"  cried  D'Artagnan,  "I  am  anxious  to 
embrace  him." 

"Oh!"  said  Mousqueton,  much  affected,  "I  will  certainly 
write  to  him." 

"How!"  cried  D'Artagnan,  "you  will  write  to  him?" 

"This  very  day;  I  will  not  delay  it  an  hour." 

"Is  he  not  here,  then?" 

"No,  monsieur." 

"But  is  he  near  at  hand? — is  he  far  off?" 

"Oh,  can  I  tell,  monsieur,  can  I  tell?" 

"Mordioux!"  cried  the  musketeer,  stamping  with  his 
foot.     "lam  unfortunate.     Porthos  is  such  a  stay-at-home!" 

"Monsieur,  there  is  not  a  more  sedentary  man  than  mon- 
leigneur;  but " 


123  TH?  YICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOITirE. 

"But  what?" 

"When  a  friend  presses  you " 

"A  friend?" 

"Doubtless — the  worthy  Monsieur  d'Herblay." 

"What,  has  Aramis  pressed  Porthos?" 

"This  is  how  the  thing  happened,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan* 
Monsieur  d'Herblay  wrote  to  monseigneur " 

"Indeed!" 

"A  letter,  monsieur,  such  a  pressing  letter  that  it  threw 
us  all  into  a  bustle." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  my  dear  friend,"  said  D'Artagnan; 
;'but  remove  these  people  a  little  further  off  first." 

Mousqueton  shouted:  "Fall  back,  you  sirs!"  with  such 
powerful  lungs  that  the  breath,  without  the  words,  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  disperse  the  four  lackeys.  D'Artag- 
nan seated  himself  on  the  shaft  of  the  box  and  opened  his 
ears.  "Monsieur,"  said  Mousqueton,  "monseigneur,  then, 
received  a  letter  from  Monsieur  le  Vicaire-General  d'Her- 
blay eight  or  nine  days  ago;  it  was  the  day  of  champetre 
pleasures — yes,  it  must  have  been  Wednesday." 

"What  means  that?"  said  D'Artagnan.  "The  day  of 
champetre  pleasures?" 

"Yes,  monsieur;  we  have  so  many  pleasures  to  take  in 
this  delightful  country,  that  we  were  encumbered  by  them; 
so  much  so,  that  we  have  been  forced  to  regulate  the  dis- 
tribution of  them." 

"How  easily  do  I  recognize  Porthos' love  of  order  in  that! 
Now,  that  idea  would  never  have  occurred  to  me;  but  then 
I  am  not  encumbered  with  pleasures." 

"We  were,  though,"  said  Mousqueton. 

"And  how  did  you  regulate  the  matter,  let  me  know?" 
said  D'Artagnan. 

"It  is  rather  long,  monsieur." 

"Never  mind,  we  have  plenty  of  time;  and  you  speak  so 
well,  my  dear  Mousqueton,  that  it  is  really  a  pleasure  to 
hear  you." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Mousqueton,  with  a  sign  of  satisfac- 
tion, which  emanated  evidently  from  the  justice  which  had 
been  rendered  him,  "it  is  true  I  have  made  great  progress 
in  the  company  of  monseigneur." 

"I  am  waiting  for  the  distribution  of  the  pleasures,  Mous- 
queton, and  with  impatience.  I  want  to  know  if  I  have 
arrived  on  a  lucky  day." 

"Oh,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  said  Mousqueton,  in  a  mel- 
ancholy tone,  "since  monseigneur's  departure  all  the 
pleasures  are  gone,  too." 


THE   VICOMTE   BE   BRAGELUXNE.  123 

"Well,  my  dear  Mousqueton,  refresh  your  memory." 

"With  what  day  shall  I  begin?" 

"Eh,  pardieu  I  begin  with  Sunday;  that  is  the  Lord's 
day." 

"Sunday,  monsieur!" 

"Yes." 

"Sunday  pleasures  are  religious;  monseigneur  goes  to 
mass,  makes  the  bread-offering,  and  has  discourses  and  in- 
structions made  to  him  by  his  almoner  in  ordinary.  That 
is  not  very  amusing,  but  we  expect  a  Carmelite  from  Pari? 
who  will  do  the  duty  of  our  almoner,  and  who,  we  are  as 
sured,  speaks  very  well,  which  will  keep  us  awake,  whereas 
our  present  almoner  always  sends  us  to  sleep.  These  are 
Sunday  religious  pleasures.    On  Monday,  worldly  pleasures. " 

"Ah,  ah!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "what  do  you  mean  by  that? 
Let  us  have  a  glimpse  at  your  worldly  pleasures.'-' 

"Monsieur,  on  Monday  we  go  into  the  world;  we  pay  and 
receive  visits,  we  play  on  the  lute,  we  dance,  we  make 
verses,  and  burn  a  little  incense  in  honor  of  the  ladies." 

"Peste!  that  is  the  height  of  gallantry,"  said  the  mus- 
keteer, who  was  obliged  to  call  to  his  aid  all  the  strength  of 
his  mastoid  muscles  to  suppress  an  enormous  inclination  to 
laugh. 

"Tuesday,  learned  pleasures." 

"Good!"  cried  D'Artagnan.  "What  are  they?  Detail 
them,  my  dear  Mousqueton." 

"Monseigneur  has  bought  a  sphere  or  globe,  which  I  will 
show  you;  it  fills  all  the  perimeter  of  the  great  tower,  ex- 
cept a  gallery  which  he  has  had  built  over  the  sphere;  there 
are  little  strings  and  brass  wires  to  which  the  sun  and  moon 
are  hooked.  It  all  turns;  and  that  is  very  beautiful.  Mon- 
seigneur points  out  to  me  seas  and  distant  countries.  We 
don't  intend  to  visit  them,  but  it  is  very  interesting." 

"Interesting!  yes,  that's  the  word,"  repeated  D'Artag 
nan.     "And  Wednesday?" 

"Champetre  pleasures,  as  I  have  had  the  honor  to  tell 
you,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier.  We  look  over  monseigneur's 
sheep  and  goats;  we  make  the  shepherds  dance  to  pipes 
and  reeds,  as  is  written  in  a  book  monseigneur  has  in  his 
library,  which  is  called  'Bergeries.'  The  author  died  about 
a  month  ago." 

"Monsieur  Racan,  perhaps?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Yes,  that  was  his  name — Monsieur  Racan.  But  that  is 
not  all;  we  angle  in  the  little  canal,  after  which  we  dine, 
crowned  with  lowers.     That  is  Wednesday." 


124  THE    flCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONKE. 

'■Teste!"  said  D'Artagnan;  "you  don't  divide  youf 
pleasures  badly.  And  Thursday? — what  can  be  left  for 
poor  Thursday?" 

"It  is  not  very  unfortunate,  monsieur,"  said  Mousque* 
ton,  smiling.  "Thursday,  Olympian  pleasures.  Ah,  mon- 
sieur, that  is  superb!  We  get  together  all  monseigneur's 
young  vassals,  and  we  make  them  throw  the  disk,  wrestle, 
and  run  races.  Monseigneur  can't  run  now,  no  more  can  I; 
but  monseigneur  throws  the  disk  as  nobody  else  can  throw 
it.  And  when  he  does  deal  a  blow,  oh,  that  proves  a  mis- 
fortune!" 

"How  so?" 

"Yes,  monsieur;  we  were  obliged  to  renounce  the  cestus. 
He  cracked  heads,  he  broke  jaws,  beat  in  ribs.  It  was 
charming  sport;  but  nobody  was  willing  to  play  with  him." 

"Then  his  wrist " 

"Oh,  monsieur,  more  firm  than  ever.  Monseigneur  gets 
a  trifle  weaker  in  his  legs — he  confesses  that  himself;  but 
his  strength  has  all  taken  refuge  in  his  arms,  so  that " 

"So  that  he  can  knock  down  bullocks,  as  he  used  for- 
merly." 

"Monsieur,  better  than  that — he  beats  in  walls.  Lately, 
after  having  supped  with  one  of  our  farmers — you  know 
how  popular  and  kind  monseigneur  is — after  supper,  as  a 
joke,  he  struck  the  wall  a  blow.  The  wall  crumbled  away 
beneath  his  hand,  the  roof  fell  in,  and  three  men  and  an 
old  woman  were  stifled." 

"Good  God,  Mousqueton!     And  your  master?" 

"Oil,  monseigneur,  his  head  had  a  little  skin  rubbed  off. 
We  bathed  the  wounds  with  some  water  which  the  monks 
gave  us.     But  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  his  hand." 

"Nothing?" 

"No,  nothing,  monsieur." 

"Deuce  take  the  Olympic  pleasures!  They  must  cost 
your  master  too  dear;  for  widows  and  orphans " 

"They  all  had  pensions,  monsieur;  a  tenth  of  monsei- 
gneur's revenue  is  spent  in  that  way." 

"Then  pass  on  to  Friday,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Friday,  noble  and  warlike  pleasures.  We  hunt,  we 
fence,  we  dress  falcon, s  and  break  horses.  Then,  Saturday 
is  the  day  for  intellectual  pleasures;  we  furnish  our  minds; 
we  look  at  monseigneur's  pictures  and  statues;  we  write, 
even,  and  trace  plans;  and  then  we  fire  monseigneur's 
cannon." 

"You  draw  plans  and  fire  cannon?" 


1H1  VtCOMTE  DE   BRAGELONNE.  125 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Why,  my  friend,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "Monsieur  du 
Vallon,  in  truth,  possesses  the  most  subtle  and  amiable 
mind  that  I  know.  But  there  is  one  kind  of  pleasure  you 
have  forgotten,  it  appears  to  me." 

"What  is  that,  monsieur?"  asked  Mousqueton,  with 
anxiety. 

"The  material  pleasures." 

Mousqueton  colored.  "What  do  you  mean  by  that, 
monsieur?"  said  he,  casting  down  his  eyes. 

"I  mean  the  table — good  wine — evenings  occupied  in  the 
circulation  of  the  bottle." 

"Ah,  monsieur,  we  don't  reckon  those  pleasures — we 
practice  them  every  day." 

"My  brave  Mousqueton,"  resumed  D'Artagnan,  "pardon 
me,  but  I  was  so  absorbed  in  your  charming  recital  that  I 
have  forgotten  the  principal  object  of  our  conversation, 
which  was  to  learn  what  Monsieur  le  Vicaire-General  d'Her- 
blay  could  have  to  write  to  your  master  about?" 

"That  is  true,  monsieur,"  said  Mousqueton;  "the  pleas- 
ures have  misled  us.  Well,  monsieur,  this  is  the  whole 
affair." 

"I  am  all  attention,  Mousqueton." 

"On  Wednesday " 

"The  day  of  the  champMre  pleasures?" 

"Yes — a  letter  arrived;  he  received  it  from  my  hands, 
I  had  recognized  the  writing." 

"Well?" 

"Monsieur  read  it,  and  cried  out,  'Quick!  my  horses,  my 
arms!'  " 

"Oh,  good  Lord!  then  it  was  for  some  duel?"  said 
D'Artagnan. 

"No,  monsieur;  there  were  only  these  words:  'Dear  Por- 
thos,  set  out,  if  you  would  wish  to  arrive  before  the  Equinox. 
I  expect  you.'  " 

"Mordioux!"  said  D'Artagnan  thoughtfully,  "that  is 
pressing,  apparently." 

"I  think  so;  therefore,"  continued  Mousqueton,  "mon- 
seigneur  set  out  the  very  same  day  with  his  secretary,  in 
order  to  endeavor  to  arrive  in  time." 

"And  did  he  arrive  in  time?" 

"1  hope  so.  Monseigneur,  who  is  hasty,  as.  you  know, 
monsieur,  repeated  unceasingly,  'Tonne  Dieu  !  What  can 
this  mean?  The  Equinox?  Never  mind,  the  fallow  muai 
be  well  mounted  if  he  arrives  before  1  do.' ' 


136  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONKE. 

"And  you  think  Porthoswill  have  arrived  first,  do  you?- 
asked  D'Artagnan. 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  This  Equinox,  however  rich  he  mny 
be,  has  certainly  no  horses  so  good  as  monseigneur's." 

D'Artagnan  repressed  his  inclination  to  laugh,  because 
the  brevity  of  Aramis'  letter  gave  rise  to  reflection.  He 
followed  Mousqueton,  or,  rather,  Mousqueton's  chariot,  to 
the  castle.  He  sat  down  to  a  sumptuous  table,  of  which 
they  did  him  the  honors  as  to  a  king.  But  he  could  draw 
nothing  from  Mousqueton — the  faithful  servant  seemed  to 
ahed  tears  at  will,  but  that  was    II. 

D'Artagnan,  after  a  night  passed  in  an  excellent  bed, 
reflected  much  upon  the  meaning  of  Aramis'  letter;  puz< 
zled  himself  as  to  the  relation  of  the  Equinox  with  the 
affairs  of  Porthos;  and  being  unable  to  make  anything  out, 
unless  it  concerned  some  amour  of  the  bishop's,  for  which 
it  was  necessary  that  the  days  and  nights  should  be  equal, 
D'Artagnan  left  Pierrefonds  as  he  had  left  Melun,  as  he 
had  left  the  chateau  of  the  Comte  de  la  Fere.  It  was  not, 
however,  without  a  melancholy,  which  might  by  good  right 
pass  for  one  of  the  dullest  of  D'Artagnan's  humors.  His 
head  cast  down,  his  eyes  fixed,  he  suffered  his  legs  to  hang 
on  each  side  of  his  horse,  and  said  to  himself,  in  that  vague 
sort  of  reverie  which  ascends  sometimes  to  the  sublimest 
eloquence: 

"No  more  friends!  no  more  future!  no  more  anything! 
My  energies  are  broken  like  the  bonds  of  our  ancient 
friendship.  Oh,  old  age  arrives,  cold  and  inexorable;  it 
envelopes  in  its  funereal  crape  aP  that  was  brillant,  all  that 
was  embalming  in  my  youth;  +hen  it  throws  that  sweet 
burden  on  its  shoulders  and  carries  it  away  with  the  rest 
into  the  fathomless  gulf  of  deat\." 

A  shudder  crept  through  the  heart  of  the  Gascon,  so 
brave  and  so  strong  against  all  the  misfortunes  of  life;  and 
during  some  moments  the  clouds  appeared  black  to  him, 
the  earth  slippery  and  full  of  pits  as  that  of  cemeteries. 

"Whither  am  I  going?"  said  he  to  himself.  "What  am 
I  going  to  do?  Alone,  quite  alone — without  family,  with- 
out friends!  Bah!"  cried  he  all  at  once.  And  he  clapped 
spurs  to  his  horse,  who,  having  found  nothing  melancholy 
in  the  heavy  oats  of  Pierrefonds,  profited  by  this  permis- 
sion to  show  his  gayety  in  a  gallop  which  absorbed  two 
leagues.  "To  Paris!"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself.  And 
on  the  morrow  he  alighted  in  Paris.  He  had  devoted  six 
days  to  this  journey. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BIUGELONNE.  12? 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

i 

WHAT   D'AKTAGNAN    WENT   TO    DO    IN    PARIS. 

The  lieutenant  dismounted  before  a  shop  in  the  Rue  dec 
[Lombards,  at  the  sign  of  the  Pilon  d'Or.  A  man  of  good 
appearance,  wearing  a  white  apron,  and  stroking  his  grfjy 
■Eustache  with  a  large  hand,  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  on  per- 
ceiving the  pied  horse.  "Monsieur  le  Chevalier/'  said  he> 
"ah,  is  that  you?" 

" Bon  jour,  Planchet,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  stooping  to 
enter  the  shop. 

"Quick,  somebody,"  cried  Planchet,  "to  look  after  Mon- 
sieur d'Artagnan's  horse — somebody  to  get  ready  his  charm 
)ber — somebody  to  prepare  his  supper." 

"Thanks,  Planchet.  Good-day,  my  children,"  said 
D'Artagnan  to  the  eager  boys. 

"Allow  me  to  send  off  this  coffee,  this  treacle,  and  these 
raisins,"  said  Planchet;  "they  are  for  the  office  of  Monsieur 
le  Surintendant." 

"Send  them  off,  send  them  off!" 

"That  is  only  the  affair  of  a  moment,  then  we  will  sup." 

"Order  so  that  we  may  sup  alone;  I  want  to  speak  to 
:ycu." 

Planchet  looked  at  his  old  master  in  a  significant  manner. 

"Oh,  be  at  ease,  it  is  nothing  unpleasant,"  said  D'Ar- 
tagnan. 

"So  much  the  better — so  much  the  better!"  And  Plan- 
ohet  breathed  freely  again,  while  D'Artagnan  seated  him- 
self quietly  down  in  the  shop,  upon  a  bale  of  corks,  and 
took  connaissance  of  the  localities.  The  shop  was  well 
stocked;  there  was  a  mingled  perfume  of  ginger,  cinnamon, 
and  ground  pepper,  which  made  D'Artagnan  sneeze.  The 
shop-boys,  proud  of  being  in  company  with  so'renowned  a 
man  of  war,  of  a  lieutenant  of  musketeers,  who  approached 
the  person  of  the  Dking,  began  ^to  work  with  an  enthusiasm 
which  was  something  like  delirium,  and  to  serve  the  cus- 
tomers with  a  disdainful  precipitation  that  was  remarked 
by  several. 

Planchet  put  away  his  money  and  made  up  his  accounts 
imid  civilities  addressed  to  his  old  master.  Planchet  had 
with  his  equals  the  short  speech  and  the  haughty  familiar- 
ity of  the  rich  shopkeeper  who  serves  everybody  and  waits 
for  nobody.  D'Artagnan  observed  this  shade  with  a  pleas- 
ure w  hich  we  will  analyze  presently.     He  saw  night  come 


if%  THE  VICOMTE  DE   BRAGELONtfE. 

on  by  degrees,  and  at  length  Plr.nchet  conducted  him  to  a 
chamber  on  the  first  story,  where,  amid  bales  and  chests,  a 
table  very  nicely  set  out  awaited  the  two  guests. 

D'Artagnan  took  advantage  of  a  moment's  pause  to  ex- 
amine the  countenance  of  Planchet,  whom  he  had  not  seen 
for  a  year  past.  The  shrewd  Planchet  had  acquired  a  slight 
protuberance  in  front,  but  his  countenance  was  not  puffed. 
His  keen  eyes  still  played  with  facility  in  its  deep-sunk 
orbit;  and  fat,  which  levels  all  the  characteristic  saliences 
of  the  human  face,  had  not  yet  touched  either  his  high 
cheek-bones,  the  index  of  cunning  and  cupidity,  or  his 
pointed  chin,  the  index  of  acuteness  and  perseverance. 
Planchet  reigned  with  as  much  majesty  in  his  dining-room 
as  in  his  shop.  He  set  before  his  master  a  frugal,  but  a 
perfectly  Parisian  repast;  roast  meat,  cooked  at  the  baker's, 
with  vegetables,  salad,  and  a  dessert  borrowed  from  the 
shop  itself.  D'Artagnan  was  pleased  that  the  grocer  had 
drawn  from  behind  the  fagots  a  bottle  of  that  Anjou  wine 
which,  during  all  his  life,  had  been  D'Artagnan's  wine  by 
predilection. 

''Formerly,  monsieur,"  said  Planchet,  with  a  smile  full 
of  bonhomie,  "it  was  I  who  drank  your  wine;  now  you  do 
me  the  honor  to  drink  mine." 

"And,  thank  God,  friend  Planchet,  I  shall  drink  it  for  a 
long  time  to  come,  I  hope;  for  at  present  I  am  free." 

"Free?    You  have  leave  of  absence,  monsieur?" 

"Unlimited." 

"You  are  leaving  the  service?"  said  Planchet,  stupefied. 

"Yes,  I  am  resting." 

"And  the  king?"  cried  Planchet,  who  could  not  suppose 
it  possible  that  the  king  oould  do  without  the  services  of 
such  a  man  as  D'Artagnan. 

"The  king  will  try  his  fortune  elsewhere.  But  we  have 
supped  well,  you  are  disposed  to  enjoy  yourself;  you  pro- 
voke me  to  repose  confidence  in  you.  Open  your  ears, 
then." 

"They  are  open."  And  Planchet,  with  a  laugh  more 
frank  than  cunning,  opened  a  bottle  of  white  wine. 

"Leave  me  my  reason,  though." 

"Oh,  as  to  losing  your  head — you,  monsieur!" 

"Now  my  head  is  my  own,  and  I  mean  to  take  better 
care  of  it  than  ever.  In  the  first  place,  we  will  talk  of 
finance.     How  fares  your  money-box?" 

"Wonderfully  well,  monsieur.  The  twenty  thousand 
livres  I  had  of  you  are  still  employed  in  my  trade,  in  which 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BR  AGELONG  E.  129 

I  they  bring  me  nine  per  cent.  I  give  you  seven,  so  I  gain 
'  two  by  you." 

''And  you  are  still  satisfied?" 

"Delighted.     Have  you  brought  me  any  more?" 

''Better  than  that.     But  do  you  want  any?" 

"Oh!  not  at  all.  Every  one  is  willing  to  trust  me  now. 
I  am  extending  my  business." 

"That  was  your  project." 

"I  play  the  banker  a  little.  I  buy  goods  of  my  necessitous 
brethren;  I  lend  money  to  those  who  are  not  ready  for  their 
payments." 

"Without  usury?" 

"Oh,  monsieur!  in  the  course  of  the  last  week  I  have  had 
t  two  meetings  on  the  boulevards,  on  account  of  the  word 
'you  have  just  pronounced." 

"What?" 

"You  shall  see;  it  concerned  a  loan.  The  borrower  gives 
me  in  pledge  some  raw  sugars,  upon  condition  that  I  should 
sell  if  repayment  were  not  made  at  a  fixed  period.  I  lent 
a  thousand  livres.  He  does  not  pay  me,  and  I  sell  the 
sugars  for  thirteen  hundred  livres.  He  learns  this  and 
claims  a  hundred  crowns.  Ma  foi !  I  refused,  pretending 
■that  I  could  not  sell  them  for  more  than  nine  hundred 
livres.  He  accused  me  of  usury.  I  begged  him  to  repeat 
that  word  to  me  behind  the  boulevards.  He  was  an  old 
guard,  and  he  came;  and  I  passed  your  sword  through  his 
i left  thigh." 

ltTu  dieul  what  a  pretty  sort  of  banker  you  make!"  said 
iD'Artagnan. 

"For  above  thirteen  per  cent.  I  fight,"  replied  Planchet; 
'"that  is  my  character." 

"Take  only  twelve,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "and  call  the  rest 
[premium  and  brokerage." 

"You  are  right,  monsieur;  but  to  your  business." 

"Ah!  Planchet,  it  is  very  long  and  very  hard  to  speak.3' 

"Do  speak  it,  nevertheless." 

D'Artagnan  twisted  his  mustache  like  a  man  embarrassed 
with  the  confidence  he  is  about  to  repose,  and  mistrustful 
of  his  confidant. 

"Is  it  an  investment?"  asked  Planchet. 

"Why,  yes." 

"At  good  profit?" 

"A  capital  profit,  four  hundred  per  cent.,  Planchet." 

Planchet  gave  such  a  blow  with  his  fist  upon  the  table 
that  the  bottles  bounded  as  if  they  had  been  frightened. 


ISO  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Good  heavens!  is  that  possible?" 

"I  think  it  will  be  more,"  replied  D'Artagnan  coolly; 
"but  I  like  to  lay  it  at  the  lowest." 

"The  devil!"  said  Planchet,  drawing  nearer.  "Why, 
monsieur,  that  is  magnificent!  Can  one  place  much  men  ay 
in  it?" 

"Twenty  thousand  livres  each,  Planchet. " 

"Why,  that  is  all  you  have,  monsieur.  For  how  long  a 
time?" 

"For  a  month." 

"And  that  will  give  us " 

'     "Fifty  thousand  livres  each,  profit." 

"It  is  monstrous!  It  is  worth  while  to  fight  for  such 
interest  as  that!" 

"In  fact,  I  believe  it  will  be  necessary  to  fight  not 
little,"  said  D'Artagnan,  with  the  same  tranquillity;  "but 
this  time  there  are  two  of  us,  Planchet,  and  I  will  take  all 
the  blows  to  myself." 

"Oh,  monsieur!  I  will  not  allow  that." 

"Planchet,  you  cannot  be  concerned  in  it;  you  would  be 
obliged  to  leave  your  business  and  your  family." 

"The  affair  is  not  in  Paris,  then?" 

"No." 

"Abroad?" 

"In  England." 

"A  speculative  country,  that  is  true,"  said  Planchet;  "a 
country  I  am  well  acquainted  with.  What  sort  of  an  affair, 
monsieur,  without  too  much  curiosity?" 

"Planchet,  it  is  a  restoration." 

"Of  monuments?" 

"Yes,  of  monuments;  we  will  restore  Whitehall." 

"That  is  important.     And  in  a  month,  you  think?" 

"I  will  undertake  it." 

"That  concerns  you,  monsieur,  and  when  once  you  are 
engaged • 

"Yes,  that  concerns  me.  I  know  that  I  am  about;  never- 
theless, I  will  freely  consult  with  you." 

"You  do  me  great  honor;  but  I  know  very  little  about 
architecture." 

"Planchet,  you  are  wrong;  you  are  an  excellent  architect, 
quite  as  good  as  I  am,  for  the  case  in  question." 

"Thanks,  monsieur.  But  3Tour  old  friends  of  the  mus- 
keteers?" , 

"I  have  been,  I  confess,  tempted  to  name  the  thing  to 
those  gentlemen,  but  they  are  ail  absent  from  their  houses. 
It  is  vexatious,  for  I  kuow  uone  more  bold  or  more  able." 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  131 

"Ah!  then  it  appears  there  will  be  an  opposition,  and  the 
enterprise  will  be  disputed?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Planchet,  yes." 

"I  burn  to  know  the  details,  monsieur." 

"They  are  these,  Planchet — close  all  the  doors  firmly." 

"Yes,  monsieur."     And  Planchet  double^.ocked  them. 

"That  is  well;  now  draw  near." 

Planchet  obeyed. 

"And  open  the  window,  because  the  noise  of  the  passers-by 
vnd  the  carts  will  deafen  all  who  might  hear  us.  Planchet 
jpened  the  window  as  desired,  and  the  puff  of  tumult 
vbich  filled  the  chamber  with  cries,  wheels,  barkings,  and 
[steps  deafened  D'Artagnan  himself,  as  he  had  wished.  He 
Lhen  swallowed  a  glass  of  white   wine,  and  commenced  in 

ese  terms:  "Planchet,  I  have  an  idea." 

"Ah,  monsieur!  I  recognize  you  so  well  in  that!"  replied 
?lanchet,  panting  with  emotion. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

)F  THE  SOCIETY  "WHICH  WAS  FORMED  IN"  THE  RUE  DES 
LOMBARDS,  AT  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PILON  D'OR,  TO 
CARRY   OUT   THE   IDEA    OF   M.    D'ARTAGNAN. 

After  an  instant  of  silence,  in  which  D'Artagnan  ap- 
oeared  to  be  collecting,  not  one  idea,  but  all  his  ideas:  "It 
':annot  be,  my  dear  Planchet,"  said  he,  "that  you  have  not 
leard  speak  of  His  Majesty  Charles  I.  of  England?" 

"Alas!  yes,  monsieur,  since  you  left  France  in  order  to 
:arry  him  assistance,  and  that,  in  spite  of  that  assistance, 
ie  fell,  and  was  near  dragging  you  down  in  his  fall." 

"Exactly  so;  I  see  you  have  a  good  memory,  Planchet." 

"Peste!  the  astonishing  thing  would  be  if  I  could  have 
ost  that  memory,  however  bad  it  might  have  been.  When 
»ne  has  heard  Grimaud,  who,  you  know,  is  not  given  to 
.alking,  relate  how  the  head  of  King  Charles  fell,  how  you 
;ailed  the  half  of  a  night  in  a  scuttled  vessel,  and  saw  rise 
ip  upon  the  water  that  Monsieur  Mordaunt  with  a  certain 
;old-hafted  poniard  sticking  in  his  breast,  one  is  not  very 
ikely  to  forget  such  things." 

"And  yet  there  are  people  who  forget  them,  Planchet." 

"Yes,  such  as  have  not  seen  them,  or  have  not  heard 
jrrimaud  relate  them." 

"Well,  it  is  all  the  better  that  you  recollect  all  that;  I 


132  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BKAGELONNE. 

shall  only  have  to  remind  you  of  one  thing,  and  that  is  \,hai 
Charles  I.  had  a  son." 

"Without  contradicting  you,  monsieur,  he  had  two,"  said 
Planchet;  "for  I  saw  the  second  in  Paris,  Monsieur  le  Duke 
of  York,  one  day,  as  he  was  going  to  the  Palais  Royal,  and 
I  was  told  that  he  was  not  the  eldest  son  of  Charles  I.  As 
to  the  eldest,  I  have  the  honor  of  knowing  him  by  name, 
but  not  personally." 

"That  is  exactly  the  point,  Planchet,  we  must  come  to,, 
it  is  to  this  eldest  son,  formerly  called  the  Prince  of  Waless 
and  who  is  now  styled  Charles  II.,  King  of  England." 

"A  king  without  a  kingdom,  monsieur,"  replied  Plan* 
chet  sententiously. 

"Yes,  Planchet,  and,  you  may  add,  an  unfortunate 
prince,  more  unfortunate  than  a  man  of  the  dregs  of  the 
people  in  the  worst  quarter  of  Paris." 

Planchet  made  a  gesture  full  of  that  sort  of  compassion 
which  we  grant  to  strangers  with  whom  we  think  we  can 
never  possibly  find  ourselves  in  contact.  Besides,  he  did 
not  see  in  this  politico-sentimental  operation  any  sign  of  the 
commercial  idea  of  M.  d'Artagnan,  and  it  was  in  this  idea 
that  D'Artagnan,  who  was,  by  habit,  pretty  well  acquainted 
with  men  and  things,  had  principally  interested  Planchet. 

"I  am  coming  to  our  business.  This  young  Prince  of 
Wales,  a  king  without  a  kingdom,  as  you  have  so  well  said, 
Planchet,  has  interested  me.  I,  D'Artagnan,  have  seen 
him  begging  assistance  of  Mazarin,  who  is  a  cuistre,  and 
the  aid  of  Louis,  who  is  a  child,  and  it  appeared  to  me,  who 
am  acquainted  with  such  things,  that  in  the  intelligent  eye 
of  the  fallen  king,  in  the  nobleness  of  his  whole  person,  a 
nobleness  apparent  above  all  his  miseries,  I  could  discern 
the  stuff  of  a  man  and  the  heart  of  a  king." 

Planchet  tacitly  approved  of  all  this;  but  it  did  not  at 
all,  in  his  eyes  at  least,  throw  any  light  upon  D'Artagnan 's 
idea.  The  latter  continued:  "This,  then,  is  the  reasoning 
which  I  made  with  myself.  Listen  attentively,  Planchet, 
for  we  are  coming  to  the  conclusion." 

"I  am  listening." 

"Kings  are  not  so  thickly  sown  upon  the  earth  that 
people  can  find  them  whenever  they  want  them.  Now,  this 
king  without  a  kingdom  is,  in  my  opinion,  a  grain  of  seed 
which  will  blossom  in  some  season  or  other,  provided  a  skill- 
ful, discreet,  and  vigorous  hand  sow  it  duly  and  truly, 
selecting  soil,  sky,  and  time.'* 

Planchst  still  apnroved    by  a  nod  of  his  head,  which 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  i33 

ehowed  that  he  did  not  perfectly  comprehend  all  that  was 
said . 

"  'Poor  little  seed  of  a  king,'  said  I  to  myself;  and  really 
I  was  affected,  Planchet,  which  lead  me  to  think  that  I  am 
entering  upon  a  foolish  business.  And  that  is  why  I  wished 
to  consult  you,  my  friend." 

Planchet  colored  with  pleasure  and  pride. 

"  'Poor  little  seed  of  a  king!  I  will  pick  you  up  and  caai. 
you  into  good  ground.'  " 

"Good  God!"  said  Planchet,  looking  earnestly  at  his  old 
master,  as  if  in  doubt  of  the  state  of  his  reason. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  said  D'Artagnan;  "who  hurts  you?1'* 

"Me!  nothing,  monsieur." 

"You  said,  'Good  God!'" 

"Did  I?" 

"I  am  sure  you  did.     Can  you  already  understand?'5 

"I  confess,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  that  I  am  afraid •** 

"To  understand?" 

"Yes." 

"To  understand  that  I  wished  to  replace  upon  his  throne 
this  King  Charles  II.,  who  has  no  throne?     Is  that  it?" 

Planchet  made  a  prodigious  bound  in  his  chair.  "Ah, 
ah!"  said  he,  in  evident  terror,  "that  is  what  you  call  a 
restoration!" 

"Yes,  Planchet;  is  not  that  the  proper  term  for  it?" 

"Oh,  no  doubt,  no  doubt!  But  have  you  reflected 
seriously?" 

"Upon  what?" 

"Upon  what  is  goirlg'inr  yonder." 

"Where?" 

"In  England." 

"And  what  is  that?     Let  us  see,  Planchet." 

"In  the  first  place,  monsieur,  I  ask  your  pardon  for  med 
dling  in  these  things,  which  have  nothing  to  do  with  mj 
trade;  but  since  it  is  an  affair  that  you  propose  to  me — io\ 
you  propose  an  affair  to  me,  do  you  not?" 

"A  superb  one,  Planchet." 

"But  as  it  is  business  you  propose  to  me,  I  have  the  righl 
to  discuss  it." 

"Discuss  it,  Planchet;  out  of  discussion  is  born  light*" 

"Well,  then,  since  I  have  monsieur's  permission,  I  will 
tell  him  that  there  is  yonder,  in  the  first  place,  the  parlia- 
ment." 

"Well,  next?" 

"And  then  the  army.** 


1M  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

''Good!     Do  you  see  anything  else?'* 

"Why,  then  the  nation." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"The  nation  which  consented  to  the  overthrow  and  death 
of  the  late  king,  the  father  of  this,  and  which  will  not  be 
willing  to  belie  its  acts," 

"Planchet,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "you  reason  like  a  cheese! 
The  nation — the  nation  is  tired  of  these  gentlemen  who 
give  themselves  such  barbarous  names,  and  who  sing  songa 
to  it.  Chant  for  chant,  my  dear  Planchet;  I  have  remarked 
that  nations  prefer  singing  a  merry  chant  to  the  plain 
chant.  Kemember  the  Fronde;  what  did  they  sing  in  those 
times?     Well,  those  were  good  times." 

"Not  too  good,  not  too  good!  I  was  near  being  hung  in 
those  times." 

"Well,  but  you  were  nofc." 

"No." 

"And  you  laid  the  foundation  of  your  fortune  in  the 
midst  of  all  those  songs?" 

"That  is  true." 

"You  have  nothing  to  say  against  them,  then." 

"Well,  I  return,  then,  to  the  army  and  parliament." 

"I  say  that  I  borrow  twenty  thousand  livres  of  Monsieur 
Planchet,  and  that  I  put  twenty  thousand  livres  of  my  own 
to  it;  and  with  these  forty  thousand  livres  I  raise  an  army." 

Planchet  clasped  his  hands;  he  saw  D'Artagnan  was  in 
earnest,  and,  in  good  truth,  he  believed  his  master  had  lost 
his  senses. 

"An  army!  ah,  monsieur,"  said  he,  with  his  most  agreea- 
ble smile,  for  fear  of  irritating  the  madman,  and  rendering 
him  furious,  "an  army!     How  many?" 

"Of  forty  men,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Forty  against  forty  thousand!  that  is  not  enough.  1 
know  very  well  that  you,  Monsieur  D'Artagnan,  alone,  are 
equal  to  a  thousand  men;  but  where  are  we  to  find  thirty- 
nine  men  equal  to  you?  Or,  if  we  could  find  them,  who 
would  furnish  you  with  money  to  pay  them?" 

"Not  bad,  Planchet.  Ah,  the  devil!  you  play  the 
courtier." 

"No,  monsieur,  I  speak  what  I  think,  and  that  is  exactly 
why  I  say  that,  in  the  first  pitched  battle  you  fight  with 
your  forty  men,  I  am  very  much  afraid " 

"Therefore,  I  will  fight  no  pitched  battles,  my  dear  Plan- 
chet," said  the  Gascon,  laughing.  "We  have  very  fine  ex- 
amples in  antiquity  of  skillful  retreats  and  marches,  which 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  135 

consisted  in  avoiding  the  enemy  instead  of  attacking  them. 
You  should  know  that,  Planchet,  who  commanded  the 
Parisians  the  day  on  which  they  ought  to  have  fought 
against  the  musketeers,  and  who  so  well  calculated  marches 
and  counter-marches,  that  you  never  left  the  Palais  Eoyal." 

Planchet  could  not  forbear  laughing.  "It  is  plain," 
replied  he,  "that  if  your  forty  men  conceal  themselves,  and. 
are  not  unskillful,  they  may  hope  not  to  be  beaten;  but  you 
propose  to  yourself  some  result,  do  you  not?" 

"No  doubt.  This,  then,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  plan  to  be 
proceeded,  upon  in  order  to  replace  quickly  His  Majesty 
Charles  II.  on  his  throne." 

"Good!"  said  Planchet,  redoubling  his  attention;  "let  us 
see  your  plan.  But  in  the  first  place,  it  appears  to  me  we 
are  forgetting  something." 

"What  is  that?" 

"We  have  set  aside  the  nation  which  prefers  singing 
merry  songs  to  psalms,  and  the  army  which  we  will  not  fight; 
but  the  parliament  remains,  and  that  seldom  sings." 

"And  which  does  not  fight,  either.  How  is  it,  Planchet, 
that  an  intelligent  man  like  you  should  take  any  heed  of  a 
set  of  brawlers  who  call  themselves  Eumps  and  Barebones. 
The  parliament  does  not  trouble  me  at  all,  Planchet." 

"As  soon  as  it  ceases  to  trouble  you,  monsieur,  let  us 
pass  on." 

"Yes,  and  arrive  at  the  result.  You  remember  Crom- 
well, Planchet?" 

"I  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  him." 

"He  was  a  rough  soldier." 

"And  a  terrible  eater,  moreover." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Why,  at  one  gulp  he  swallowed  all  England." 

"Well,  Planchet,  the  evening  before  the  day  on  which  he 
swallowed  England,  if  any  one  had  swallowed  Monsieur 
Cromwell?" 

"Oh,  monsieur!  that  is  one  of  the  axioms  of  mathematics 
that  the  container  must  be  greater  than  the  contained." 

"Very  well!     That  is  our  affair,  Planchet." 

"But  Monsieur  Cromwell  is  dead,  and  his  container  is 
now  the  tomb." 

"My  dear  Planchet,  I  see  with  pleasure  that  you  have 
not  only  become  a  mathematician,  but  a  philosopher." 

"Monsieur,  in  my  grocery  business  I  use  much  printed 
paper,  and  that  instructs  me." 

"Bravo!    You  know  then^  in  that  case — for  you  have  not 


138  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELO^XE. 

learned  mathematics  and  philosophy  without  a  little  history 
— that  after  this  Cromwell  so  great,  there  came  one  who 
was  very  little." 

"Yes;  he  was  named  Richard,  and  he  has  done  as  you 
have,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan — he  has  given  in  his  resigna- 
tion." 

"Very  well  said — very  well!  After  the  great  man  who  is 
dead,  after  the  little  one  who  gave  in  his  resignation,  there 
is  come  a  third.  This  one  is  named  Monk;  he  is  an  able 
general,  considering  he  has  never  fought  a  battle;  he  is  a 
skillful  diplomatist,  considering  that  he  never  speaks  in 
public,  and  that  having  to  say  'good-day'  to  a  man,  he 
meditates  twelve  hours,  and  ends  by  saying  'good-night;' 
which  make  people  exclaim  'miracle!'  seeing  that  it  falls 
out  correctly." 

"That  is  rather  strong,"  said  Planchet;  "but  I  know 
another  polite  man  who  resembles  him  very  much." 

"Monsieur  Mazarin,  don't  you  mean?" 

"Himself." 

"You  are  right,  Planchet;  only  Monsieur  Mazarin  does 
not  aspire  to  the  throne  of  France;  and  that  changes  every- 
thing. Do  you  see?  Well,  this  Monsieur  Monk,  who  has 
England  ready-roasted  in  his  plate,  and  who  is  already 
opening  his  mouth  to  swallow  it — this  Monsieur  Monk,  who 
says  to  the  people  of  Charles  II.,  and  to  Charles  II.  himself, 
'Nescio  vos' — " 

"I  don't  understand  English,"  said  Planchet. 

"Yes,  but  I  understand  it,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "  'Nescio 
vos'  means,  'I  do  not  know  you.'  This  Monsieur  Monk, 
the  most  important  man  in  England,  when  he  shall  have 
swallowed  it " 

"Well?"  asked  Planchet. 

"Well,  my  friend,  I  will  go  over  yonder,  and  with  my 
forty  men  I  will  carry  him  off,  pack  him  up,  and  bring  him 
into  France,  where  two  modes  of  proceeding  present  them- 
selves to  my  dazzled  eyes." 

"Oh,  and  to  mine  too!"  cried  Planchet,  transported  with 
enthusiasm.  "We  will  put  him  in  a  cage  and  show  him  for 
money." 

"Well,  Planchet,  that  is  a  third  plan,  of  which  I  had  not 
thought." 

"Do  you  think  it  a  good  one?" 

"Yes,  certainly;  but  I  think  mine  better." 

"Let  us  see  yours,  then." 

"In  the  first  place.  I  will  set  a  ransom  on  him," 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  131 

"Of  how  much?" 

"Peste  !  a  fellow  like  that  must  be  well  worth  a  hundred 
thousand  crowns." 

"Yes,  yes!" 

'-  You  see,  then — in  the  first  place,  a  ransom  of  a  hundred 
thousand  crowns." 

"Or  else " 

"Or  else,  which  is  much  better,  I  deliver  him  up  to  King 
"Jharles,  who,  having  no  longer  either  a  general  or  an  army 
f,o  fear,  nor  a  diplomatist  to  trick  him,  will  restore  himself, 
and  when  once  restored,  will  pay  down  to  me  the  hundred 
thousand  crowns  in  question.  -That  is  the  idea  I  have 
formed;  what  do  you  say  to  it,  Planchet?" 

"Magnificent,  monsieur!"  cried  Planchet,  trembling  with 
emotion.     "How  did  you  conceive  that  idea?" 

"it  came  to  me  one  morning  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire, 
while  our  beloved  king,  Louis  XIV.,  was  pretending  to 
snivel  upon  the  hand  of  Mademoiselle  de  MancinL" 

"Monsieur,  1  declare,  the  idea  is  sublime.     But " 

"Ah!  is  there  a  lutf\ 

"Permit  me!  But  this  is  a  little  like  the  skin  of  that  fine 
bear — you  know — that  they  were  about  to  sell,  but  which  it 
was  necessary  to  take  from  the  back  of  the  living  bear. 
Now,  to  take  Monsieur  Monk,  there  will  be  a  bit  of  a  scuffle, 
I  should  think." 

"No  doubt;  but  as  I  shall  raise  an  army  to " 

"Yes,  yes;  1  understand,  parbleu  ! — a  coupe  de  main. 
Yes,  then,  monsieur,  you  will  triumph,  for  no  one  equals 
you  in  such  sorts  of  encounters." 

"I  certainly  am  lucky  in  them,"  said  D'Artagnan,  with  a 
proud  simplicity.  "You  know  that  if  for  this  affair  I  had 
my  dear  Athos,  my  brave  Porthos,  and  my  cunning  Aramis, 
the  business  would  be  settled;  but  they  are  all  lost,  as  it 
appears,  and  nohody  knows  where  to  find  them.  I  will  do 
it,  then,  alone.  Now,  do  you  find  the  business  good,  anc? 
the  investment  advantageous?" 

"Too  much  so — too  much  so." 

"How  can  that  be?51' 

"Because  fine  things  never  reach  the  point  expected." 

"This  is  infallible,  Planchec,  and  the  proof  is  that  I  un- 
dertake it.  It  will  be  for  you  a  tolerably  pretty  gain,  and 
for  me  a  very  interesting  stroke.  It  will  be  said,  'Such  was 
the  old  age  of  Monsieur  d'Artagnan;'  and  1  shall  hold  a 
place  in  stories,  and  even  in  history  itself,  Planchet.  I  am 
greedy  of  honor  " 


138  THE  VICOMTE  DE   BRAGELONNE. 

'"Monsieur,"  cried  Planchet,  "when  I  think  that  it  is 
here  in  my  home,  in  the  midst  of  my  sugar,  my  prunes,  and 
my  cinnamon,  that  this  gigantic  project  is  ripened,  my  shop 
seems  a  palace  to  me." 

"Beware,  beware,  Planchet!  If  the  least  report  of  this 
escapes,  there  is  the  Bastile  for  both  of  us.  Beware,  my 
friend;  for  this  is  a  plot  we  are  hatching.  Monsieur  Monk 
is  the  ally  of  Monsieur  Mazarin — beware!" 

"Monsieur,  when  a  man  has  had  the  honor  to  belong  tc 
you,  he  knows  nothing  of  fear;  and  when  he  has  the  advan  ' 
tage  of  being  bound  up  in  interests  with  you,  he  holds  his 
tongue." 

"Very  well;  that  is  more  your  affair  than  mine,  seeing 
that  in  a  week  I  shall  be  in  England." 

"Be  gone,  be  gone,  monsieur — the  sooner  the  better." 

"Is  the  money  then  ready?" 

"It  will  be  to-morrow;  to-morrow  you  shall  receive  it 
from  my  own  hands.     Will  you  have  gold  or  silver?" 

"Gold;  that  is  most  convenient.  But  how  are  we  going 
to  arrange  this?     Let  us  see." 

"Oh,  good  Lord!  in  the  simplest  way  possible.  You  shall 
give  me  a  receipt,  that  is  all." 

"No,  no,"  said  D'Artagnan  warmly;  "we  must  preserve 
order  in  all  things." 

"This  is  likewise  my  opinion;  but  with  you,  Monsieur 
d'Artagnan " 

"And  if  I  should  die  yonder — if  I  am  killed  by  a  musket 
ball — if  I  should  burst  with  drinking  beer?" 

"Monsieur,  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  in  that  case  I  should 
be  so  much  afflicted  at  your  death,  that  I  should  think 
nothing  about  the  money." 

"Thank  you,  Planchet;  but  that  will  do.  We  will,  like 
two  lawyers'  clerks,  draw  up  together  an  agreement,  a  sort 
of  act,  which  may  be  called  a  deed  of  company." 

"Willingly,  monsieur." 

"I  know  it  is  difficult  to  draw  such  a  thing  up,  but  will 
try." 

"Let  us  try,  then."  And  Planchet  went  in  search  of 
pen,  ink,  and  paper.     D'Artagnan  took  the  pen  and  wrote: 

"Between  Messire  d'Artagnan,  ex-lieutenant  of  the  king's 
musketeers,  at  present  residing  in  the  Rue  Tiquetonne, 
Hotel  de  la  Chevrette;  and  the  Sieur  Planchet,  grocer,  re- 
siding in  the  Rue  des  Lombards,  at  the  sign  of  the  Pilon 
d'Or,  it  has  been  agreed  as  follows:  A   company,  with   & 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONKE.  139 

capital  of  forty  thousand  livres,  and  formed  for  the  purpose 
of  carrying  out  an  idea  conceived  by  Monsieur  d'Artagnan, 
and  who  approves  of  it  in  all  points,  will  place  twenty  thou- 
sand livres  in  the  hands  of  Monsieur  d'Artagnan.  He  will 
require  neither  payment  nor  interest  before  the  return  of 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan  from  a  voyage  he  is  about  to  make 
into  England.  On  his  part,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  under- 
takes to  find  twenty  thousand  livres,  which  he  will  join  to 
the  twenty  thousand  already  laid  down  by  the  Sieur  Plan- 
chet.  He  will  employ  the  said  sum  of  forty  thousand  livrea 
as  good  to  him  shall  seem,  but  still  in  an  undertaking  which 
is  described  below.  On  the  day  in  which  Monsieur  d'Ar-. 
tagnan  shall  have  re-established,  by  whatever  means,  His 
Majesty  King  Charles  II.  upon  the  throne  of  England,  ho 
will  pay  into  the  hands  of  Monsieur  Planchet  the  sum 
of " 

"The  sum  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  livres,''  said 
Planchet  innocently,  perceiving  that  D'Artagnan  hesitated. 

"Oh,  the  devil,  no!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "the  division 
cannot  be  made  by  half;  that  would  not  be  just." 

"And  yet,  monsieur,  we  each  lay  down  half,"  objected 
Planchet  timidly. 

"Yes;  but  listen  to  this  clause,  my  dear  Planchet,  and  if 
you  do  not  find  it  equitable  in  every  respect  when  it  is 
written,  well,  we  can  scratch  it  out  again: 

"  'Nevertheless,  as  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  brings  to  the 
association,  besides  his  capital  of  twenty  thousand  livres, 
his  time,  his  idea,  his  industry,  and  his  skin — things  which 
he  appreciates  strongly,  particularly  the  last — Monsieur 
d'Artagnan  will  keep,  of  the  three  hundred  thousand  livres, 
two  hundred  thousand  livres  for  himself,  which  will  make 
his  share  two  thirds.'  " 

"Very  well,"  said  Planchet. 

"Is  it  just?"  asked  D'Artagnan. 

"Perfectly  just,  monsieur." 

"And  you  will  be  contented  with  a  hundred  thousand 
Uvres?" 

"Peste!  I  think  so.  A  hundred  thousand  for  twenty 
thousand!" 

"And  in  a  month,  understand." 

"How,  in  a  month?" 

"Yes,  I  only  ask  one  month." 


!40  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

f' Monsieur/' said  Planchet  generously,  "I  will  g?ve  you 
six  weeks." 

"Thank  you,'5  replied  the  musketeer  civilly  Aftef 
which  the  two  partners  reperused  their  deed. 

"That  is  perfect,  monsieur,"  said  Planchet;  "and  the 
late  Monsieur  Coquenard,  the  first  husband  of  Madame  Is 
Baronne  du  Vallon,  could  net  have  done  it  better." 

"Do  you  find  it  so?  Let  us  sign  it,  then."  And  both 
affixed  their  signatures. 

"In  this  fashion,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  shall  have  no 
obligations  to  any  one." 

"But  I  shall  be  under  obligations  to  you,"  said  Planchet. 

"No;  for  whatever  store  I  set  by  it,  Planchet,  I  may  lose 
my  skin  yonder,  and  you  will  lose  all.  Apropos — peste  ! — 
that  makes  me  think  of  the  principal,  an  indispensable 
clause.     I  will  write  it: 

"  'In  the  case  of  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  succumbing  in 
this  enterprise,  liquidation  will  be  considered  made,  and 
the  Sieur  Planchet  will  give  quittance  from  that  moment  to 
the  shade  of  Messire  d'Artagnan  for  the  twenty  thousand 
livres  paid  by  him  into  the  caisse  of  the  said  company.'  " 

This  last  clause  made  Planchet  knit  his  brows  a  little; 
but  when  he  saw  the  brilliant  eye,  the  muscular  hand,  the 
back  so  supple  and  so  strong,  of  his  associate,  he  regained 
his  courage,  and,  without  regret,  he  at  once  added  another 
stroke  to  his  signature.  D'Artagnan  did  the  same.  Thus 
was  drawn  the  first  act  of  a  company  known*:  perhaps  such 
things  have  been  abused  a  little  since,  both  ir  form  and 
principle. 

"Now,"  said  Planchet,  pouring  out  the  last  glass  of 
Anjou  wine  for  D'Artagnan,  "now  go  to  sleep,  my  deal 
master." 

"No,"  replied  D'Artagnan;  "for  the  most  difficult  part 
now  remains  to  be  done,  and  I  will  think  over  that  difficult 
part." 

"Bah!"  said  Planchet;  "I  have  such  a  great  confidence 
in  you,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  that  1  would  not  give  my 
hundred  thousand  livres  for  ninety  thousand  livres  down." 

"And  devil  take  me  if  I  don't  think  you  are  right!" 
Upon  which  D'Artagnan  took  a  candle  and  went  up  to  hi? 
bedroom. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  141 

CHAPTER  XXL 

IN   WHICH     D'ARTAGNAN     PREPARES     TO     TRAVEL  FOR    TI1B 
HOUSE    OF    PLANCHET   &    COMPANY. 

D'Artagnan  reflected  to  such  good  purpose  during  the 
Alight  that  his  plan  was  settled  by  morning.  "This  is  it," 
said  he,  sitting  up  in  bed,  supporting  his  elbow  on  his  knee, 
and  his  chin  in  his  hand — "this  is  it.  I  will  seek  out  forty 
steady,  firm  men,  recruited  among  people  a  little  compro 
mised,  but  having  habits  of  discipline.  I  will  promise  them 
five  hundred  livres  for  a  month  if  they  return;  nothing  if 
they  do  not  return,  or  half  for  their  kindred.  As  to  food 
and  lodging,  that  concerns  the  English,  who  have  beasts  in 
their  pastures,  bacon  in  their  bacon-racks,  fowls  in  their 
poultry-yards,  and  corn  in  their  barns.  I  will  present  my- 
self to  General  Monk  with  my  little  body  of  troops.  He 
will  receive  me.  I  shall  gain  his  confidence,  and  will  abuse 
it  as  soon  as  possible." 

But  without  going  further,  D'Artagnan  shook  his  head 
and  interrupted  himself.  "No,"  said  he;  "I  should  not 
dare  to  relate  this  to  Athos;  the  means  is  not  then  honor- 
able. I  must  use  violence,"  continued  he,  "very  certainly, 
I  must,  but  without  compromising  my  loyalty.  With  forty 
men  I  will  traverse  the  country  as  a  partisan.  But  if  I  fall 
in  with,  not  forty  thousand  English,  as  Planchet  said,  but 
purely  and  simply  with  four  hundred,  I  shall  be  beaten. 
Supposing  that  among  my  forty  warriors  there  should  be 
found  at  least  ten  stupid  ones — ten  who  will  allow  them- 
selves to  be  killed  one  after  the  other,  from  mere  folly? 
No;  it  is,  in  fact,  impossible  to  find  forty  men  to  be  de- 
pended upon — they  do  not  exist.  I  must  learn  how  to  be 
contented  with  thirty.  With  ten  men  less  I  should  have 
the  right  of  avoiding  any  armed  rencounter,  on  account  of 
the  small  number  of  my  people;  and  if  the  rencounter  should 
take  place,  my  chance  is  much  more  certain  with  thirty 
men  than  forty.  Besides,  I  should  save  five  thousand 
francs;  that  is  to  say,  the  eighth  of  my  capital;  that  is 
worth  the  trial.  This  being  so,  I  should  have  thirty  men. 
I  will  divide  them  into  three  bands,  we  will  spread  ourselves 
about  over  the  country,  with  an  injunction  to  reunite  at  a 
given  moment;  in  this  fashion,  ten  by  ten,  we  should  excite 
no  suspicion — we  should  pass  unperceived.  Yes,  yes,  thirty 
— that  is  a  magic  number.  There  are  three  tens — thr.ee, 
tnat  divine  number!     And  then,  truly,  a  company  of  thirty 


142  THE  YICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONSTE. 

men,  when  all  together,  will  look  rather  imposing.  Ah, 
stupid  wretch  that  I  am!"  continued  D'Artagnan,  "I  want 
thirty  horses.  That  is  ruinous.  Where  the  devil  was  my 
head  when  I  forgot  the  horses?  We  cannot,  however,  think 
of  striking  such  a  blow  without  horses.  Well,  so  be  it,  that 
sacrifice  must  be  made;  we  can  get  the  horses  in  the  country 
— they  are  not  bad,  besides.  But  I  forgot — peste!  Three 
bands — that  necessitates  three  leaders;  there  is  the  diffi- 
culty. Of  the  three  commanders  I  have  already  one — that 
is  myself;  yes,  but  the  two  others  will  of  themselves  cost, 
almost  as  much  money  as  all  the  rest  of  the  troop.  No; 
decidedly  I  must  have  but  one  lieutenant.  In  that  case, 
then,  I  should  reduce  my  troop  to  twenty  men.  I  know 
very  well  that  twenty  men  is  but  very  little;  but  since  with 
thirty  I  was  determined  not  to  seek  to  come  to  blows,  I 
should  do  so  more  carefully  still  with  twenty.  Twenty — 
that  is  a  round  number;  that,  besides,  reduces  the  number- 
of  horses  by  ten,  which  is  a  consideration;  and  then,  with  a 
good  lieutenant —  Mordioux !  what  things  patience  and 
calculation  are!  Was  I  not  going  to  embark  with  forty 
men,  and  I  have  now  reduced  them  to  twenty  for  an  equal 
success?  Ten  thousand  livres  saved  at  one  stroke,  and 
more  safety;  that  is  well!  Now,  then,  let  us  see;  we  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  find  this  lieutenant— let  him  be  found, 
then;  and  after — ?  That  is  not  so  easy;  he  must  be  brave 
and  good,  a  second  myself.  Yes;  but  a  lieutenant  must 
have  my  secret,  and  as  that  secret  is  worth  a  million,  and  I 
shall  only  pay  my  man  a  thousand  livres,  fifteen  hundred 
at  the  most,  my  man  will  sell  the  secret  to  Monk.  Mor- 
dioux I  no  lieutenant.  Besides,  this  man,  were  he  as  mute 
as  a  disciple  of  Pythagoras,  this  man  would  be  sure  to  have 
in  the  troop  some  favorite  soldier,  whom  he  would  make  his 
sergeant;  the  sergeant  would  penetrate,  the  secret  of  the 
lieutenant,  in  case  the  latter  should  be  honest  and  unwill- 
ing to  sell  it.  Then  the  sergeant,  less  honest  and  less  ambi- 
tious, will  give  up  the  whole  for  fifty  thousand  livres 
Come,  come!  that  is  impossible.  Decidedly  the  lieutenant 
is  impossible.  But  then  I  must  have  no  fractions;  I  can- 
not divide  my  troop  into  two,  and  act  upon  two  points  at 
once,  without  another  self,  who —  But  what  is  the  use  of 
acting  upon  two  points,  as  we  have  only  one  man  to  take? 
What  can  be  the  good  to  weaken  the  corps  by  placing  the 
right  here,  and  the  left  there?  A  single  corps,  Mordioux  ' 
a  single  one,  and  that  commanded  by  D'Artagnan.  Very 
well.     But  twenty  men  marching  in  one  band  are  suspected 


THE  VICOMTE  DE   BRAGELONNE?  143 

by  everybody;  twenty  horsemen  must  not  be  seen  march- 
ing together,  or  a  company  will  be  detached  against  them, 
and  the  orderly  word  will  be  required;  and  which  company, 
upon  seeing  the  embarrassment  of  the  troop  in  giving  it, 
would  shoot  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  and  his  men  like  so 
many  rabbits.  I  reduce  myself  then  to  ten  men;  in  this 
fashion  I  shall  act  simply  and  with  unity;  I  shall  be  forced 
to  be  prudent,  which  is  half  success  in  an  affair  of  the  kind 
I  am  undertaking;  a  greater  number^might,  perhaps,  have 
drawn  me  into  some  folly.  Ten  horses  are  not  many  either 
to  buy  or  take.  A  capital  idea;  what  tranquillity  it  infuses 
into  my  mind!  No  more  suspicions — no  orderly  words — no 
more  dangers!  Ten  men,  they  are  valets  or  clerks.  Ten 
men,  leading  ten  horses  laden  with  merchandise  of  what- 
ever kind,  are  tolerated,  well  received  everywhere.  Ten 
men  travel  on  account  of  the  house  of  Planchet  &  Co.,  of 
France;  nothing  can  be  said  against  that.  These  ten  men, 
clothed  like  manufacturers,  have  a  good  cutlass  or  a  good 
musketoon  at  their  saddle-bow,  and  a  good  pistol  in  the 
holster.  They  never  allow  themselves  to  be  uneasy,  because 
they  have  no  evil  designs.  They  are  perhaps,  at  bottom,  a 
little  disposed  to  be  smugglers;  but  what  harm  is  in  that? 
Smuggling  is  not,  like  polygamy,  a  hanging  offense.  The 
worst  that  can  happen  to  us  is  the  confiscation  of  our  mer- 
chandise. Our  merchandise  confiscated — a  fine  affair  that. 
Come,  come!  it  is  a  superb  plan.  Ten  men  only — ten  men, 
whom  I  will  engage  for  my  service;  ten  men,  who  shall  be 
i  as  resolute  as  forty  who  would  cost  me  four  times  as  much, 
i  and  to  whom,  for  greater  security,  I  will  never  open  my 
mouth  as  to  my  designs,  and  to  whom  I  shall  only  say,  'My 
friends,  there  is  a  blow  to  be  struck.'  Things  being  after 
l  this  fashion,  Satan  will  be  very  malicious  if  he  plays  me  one 
i  of  his  tricks.  Fifteen  thousand  livres  saved — that's  superb 
—out  of  twenty!" 

Thus  fortified  by  his  laborious  calculations,  D'Artagnan 
:  stopped  at  this  plan,  and  determined  to  change  nothing  in 
;  it.  He  had  already,  on  a  list  furnished  by  his  inexhausti- 
ble memory,  ten  men  illustrious  among  the  seekers  of  ad- 
ventures, ill-treated  by  fortune,  and  not  on  good  terms  with 
justice.  Upon  this  D'Artagnan  rose,  and  instantly  set  off 
on  the  search,  telling  Planchet  not  to  expect;  him  at  break- 
fast, and  perhaps  not  at  dinner.  A  day  and  a  half  spent  in 
rummaging  among  certain  cabins  in  Paris  sufficed  for  his 
recruiting;  and,  without  allowing  his  adventurers  to  com- 
imunicate  with  one  another,  he  had  picked  up  and  got  to- 


144  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNB, 

gether,  in  less  than  thirty  hours,  a  charming  collection  of 
ill-looking  faces,  speaking  a  French  less  pure  than  the  Eng- 
lish they  were  about  to  attempt.  These  men  were,  for  the 
most  part,  guards,  whose  merit  D'Artagnan  had  had  an 
opportunity  of  appreciating  in  various  rencounters,  andwhom 
drunkenness,  unlucky  sword-thrusts,  unexpected  winnings 
at  play,  or  the  economical  reforms  of  Mazarin,  had  forced 
to  seek  shade  and  solitude,  those  two  great  consolers  of 
irritated  and  chafed  spirits.  They  bore  upon  their  coun- 
tenances  and  in  their  vestments  the  traces  of  the  heartaches 
they  had  undergone.  Some  had  their  visages  scarred,  all 
had  their  clothes  in  rags.  D'Artagnan  comforted  the  most 
needy  of  these  fraternal  miserables  by  a  prudent  distribu- 
tion of  the  crowns  of  the  society;  then  having  taken  care 
that  these  crowns  should  be  employed  in  the  physical  im- 
provement of  the  troop,  he  appointed  a  rendezvous  with 
them  in  the  north  of  France,  between  Berghes  and  St. 
Omer.  Six  days  were  allowed  as  the  utmost  term,  and 
D'Artagnan  was  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  good-will, 
the  good-humor,  and  the  relative  probity  of  these  illustrious 
recruits,  to  be  certain  that  not  one  of  them  would  fail  in 
his  appointment.  These  orders  given,  this  rendezvous 
fixed,  he  went  to  bid  farewell  to  Planchet,  who  asked  news 
of  his  army.  D'Artagnan  did  not  think  proper  to  inform 
him  of  the  reduction  he  had  made  in  his  personnel.  He 
feared  he  should  make  an  abatement  in  the  confidence  of 
his  associate  by  such  an  avowal.  Planchet  was  delighted  to 
learn  that  the  army  was  levied,  and  that  he,  Planchet, 
found  himself  a  kind  of  half-king,  who,  from  his  throne- 
counter,  kept  in  pay  a  body  of  troops  destined  to  make  war 
against  perfidious  Albion,  that  enemy  of  all  true  French 
hearts.  Planchet  paid  down,  in  double-louis,  twenty  thou- 
sand livres  to  D'Artagnan,  on  the  part  of  himself,  Plan- 
chet, and  twenty  thousand  livres,  still  in  double-louis,  on 
account  of  D'Artagnan.  D'Artagnan  placed  each  of  the 
twenty  thousand  francs  in  a  bag,  and  weighing  a  bag  in  each 
hand,  "This  money  is  very  embarrassing,  my  dear  Plan- 
chet," said  he.  "Do  you  know  this  weighs  thirty  pounds?" 
"Bah!  your  horse  will  carry  that  like  a  feather." 
D'Artagnan  shook  his  head.  "Don't  tell  such  things  to 
me,  Planchet;  a  horse  overloaded  with  thirty  pounds,  in 
addition  to  the  rider  and  his  portmanteau,  cannot  cross  a 
river  so  easily — cannot  leap  over  a  wall  or  ditch  so  lightly; 
and  the  horse  failing,  the  horseman  fails.  It  is  true  that 
you.  Planchet,  who  have  served  in  the  infantry,  may  not  be 
uv>  .ue  ol  all  that." 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  £.45 

''Then  what  is  to  be  done,  monsieur?"  said  Planchet, 
greatly  embarrassed. 

"Listen  to  me,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "I  will  pay  my  army 
on  its  return  home.  Keep  my  half  of  twenty  thousand 
livres,  which  you  can  make  use  of  during  that  time." 

"And  my  half?"  said  Planchet.      ^ 

"I  will  take  that  with  me." 

"Your  confidence  does  me  honor,"  said  Planchet;  "but 
suppose  you  should  not  return?" 

"That  is  possible,  though  not  very  probable.  Then, 
Planchet,  in  case  I  should  not  return — give  me  a  pen;  I  will 
make  my  will."  D'Artagnan  took  a  pen  and  some  paper, 
and  wrote  upon  a  plain  sheet: 

"I,  D'Artagnan,  possess  twenty  thousand  livres,  laid  up, 
sou  by  sou,  during  thirty  years  that  I  have  been  in  the 
service  of  his  majesty  the  King  of  France.  I  leave  five 
thousand  to  Athos,  five  thousand  to  Porthos,  and  five  thou- 
sand to  Aramis,  that  they  may  give  the  said  sums  in  my 
name  and  their  own  to  my  young  friend,  Eaoul,  Vicomte  de 
Bragelonne.  I  give  the  remaining  five  thousand  to  Plan- 
chet, that  he  may  distribute  the  fifteen  thousand  with  less 
regret  among  my  friends.  With  which  purpose  I  sign  these 
presents. 

"D'Artagnan." 

Planchet  appeared  very  curious  to  know  what  D'Artag- 
nan had  written. 

"Here,"  said  the  musketeer,  "read  it." 

On  reading  the  last  lines  the  tears  came  into  Planchet's 
eyes.  "You  think,  then,  that  I  would  not  have  given  the 
money  without  that?  Then  I  will  have  none  of  your  five 
thousand  francs." 

D'Artagnan  smiled.  "Accept  it,  accept  it  Planchet;  and 
in  that  way  you  will  only  lose  fifteen  thousand  francs  in- 
stead of  twenty  thousand,  and  you  will  not  be  tempted  to 
disregard  the  signature  of  your  master  and  friend  by  losing 
nothing  at  all." 

How  well  that  dear  M.  d'Artagnan  was  acquainted  with 
the  hearts  of  men  and  grocers!  They  who  have  pronounced 
Don  Quixote  mad  because  he  rode  out  to  the  conquest  of  an 
empire  with  nobody  but  Sancho  his  squire,  and  they  who 
have  pronounced  Sancho  mad  because  he  accompanied  his 
master  in  his  attempt  to  conquer  the  said  empire,  they  cer- 
tainly will  have  no  hesitation  its  extending  the  same  judg- 


146  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

ment  to  D'Artagnan  and  Planchet.  And  yet  the  first  passed 
for  one  of  the  most  subtle  spirits  among  the  astute  spirits 
of  the  court  of  France.  As  to  the  second,  he  had  acquired 
by  good  right  the  reputation  of  one  of  the  longest  heads 
among  the  grocers  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards;  consequently 
of  Paris,  and  consequently  of  France.  Now,  to  consider 
these  two  men  from  the  point  of  view  in  which  you  would 
consider  other  men,  and  the  means  by  the  aid  of  which  the}' 
contemplated  to  restore  a  monarch  to  his  throne,  compara- 
tively with  other  means,  the  shallowest  brains  of  the  coun- 
try where  brains  are  most  shallow  must  have  revolted  against 
the  presumptuous  madness  of  the  lieutenant  and  the  stupid- 
ity of  his  associate.  Fortunately,  D'Artagnan  was  not  a 
man  to  listen  to  the  idle  talk  of  those  around  him,  or  to  the 
comments  that  were  made  on  himself.  He  had  adopted  the 
motto,  "Act  well,  and  let  people  talk."  Planchet,  on  his 
part,  had  adopted  this,  "Act,  and  say  nothing."  It  re- 
sulted from  this,  that,  according  to  the  custom  of  all 
superior  geniuses,  these  two  men  flattered  themselves,  intra 
pectus,  with  being  in  the  right  against  all  who  found  fault 
with  them. 

As  a  commencement,  D'Artagnan  set  out  in  the  finest  of 
possible  weather,  without  a  cloud  in  the  heavens — without 
a  cloud  on  his  mind,  joyous  and  strong,  calm  and  decided, 
great  in  his  resolution,  and  consequently  carrying  with  him 
a  tenfold  dose  of  that  potent  fluid  which  the  shock  of  mind 
caused  to  spring  from  the  nerves,  and  which  procure  for  the 
human  machine  a  force  and  an  influence  of  which  future 
ages  will  render,  according  to  all  probability,  an  account 
more  arithmetically  than  we  ean  possibly  do  at  present. 
He  was  again,  as  in  times  past,  in  that  same  road  of  adven- 
tures which  had  led  him  to  Boulogne,  and  which  he  was 
now  traveling  for  the  fourth  time.  It  appeared  to  him  that 
he  could  almost  recognize  the  trace  of  his  own  steps  upon 
,  the  road,  and  that  of  his  fist  upon  the  doors  of  the  hostel- 
ries;  his  memory,  always  active  and  present,  brought  back 
that  youth  which  had  not,  thirty  years  before,  belied  either 
his  great  heart  or  his  wrist  of  steel.  What  a  rich  nature 
was  that  of  this  man!  He  had  all  passions,  all  defects,  all 
weaknesses,  and  the  spirit  of  contradiction  familiar  to  his 
understanding,  changed  all  these  imperfections  into  corre- 
sponding qualities.  D'Artagnan,  thanks  to  his  ever-active 
imagination,  was  afraid  of  a  shadow,  and  ashamed  of  being 
afraid,  he  marched  straight  up  to  that  shadow,  and  then 
became  extravagant  in  his  bravery,  if  the  danger  proved  to 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  14? 

be  real.  Thus  everything  in  him  was  emotion,  and  there- 
fore enjoyment.  He  loved  the  society  of  others,  but  never 
became  tired  of  his  own;  and  more  than  once,  if  he  could 
have  been  heard  when  he  was  alone,  he  might  have  been 
seen  laughing  at  the  jokes  he  related  to  himself,  or  the 
tricks  his  imagination  created  just  live  minutes  before 
ennui  might  have  been  looked  for.  D'Artagnan  was  not 
perhaps  so  gay  this  time  as  he  had  been  with  the  perspec- 
tive of  finding  some  good  friends  at  Calais,  instead  of  that 
oi  joining  the  ten  scamps  there;  melancholy,  however,  did 
not  visit  him  above  once  a  day,  and  it  was  about  five  visits 
that  he  received  from  that  somber  deity  before  he  got  sight 
of  the  sea  at  Boulogne,  and  then  these  visits  were  indeed 
but  short.  But  when  once  D'Artagnan  found  himself  near 
the  field  of  action,  all  other  feelings  but  that  of  confidence 
disappeared  never  to  return.  From  Boulogne  he  followed 
the  coast  to  Calais.  Calais  was  the  place  of  general  ren- 
dezvous, and  at  Calais  he  had  named  to  each  of  his  recruits 
the  hostelry  of  Le  Grand  Monarque,  where  living  was  not 
extravagant,  where  sailors  messed,  and  where  men  of  the 
sword,  with  sheath  of  leather,  be  it  understood,  found  lodg- 
ing, table,  food,  and  all  the  comforts  of  life,  for  thirty  sous 
per  diem.  D'Artagnan  proposed  to  himself  to  take  them  by 
surprise  in  flagrante  delicto  of  wandering  life,  and  to  judge 
by  the  first  appearance  if  he  could  reckon  upon  them  as 
trusty  companions. 
He  arrived  at  Calais  at  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

D'ARTAGNAN    TRAVELS     FOR    THE    HOUSE    OP     PLANCHET  k 
COMPANY. 

The  hostelry  of  Le  Grand  Monarque  was  situated  in  a 
little  street  parallel  to  the  port,  without  looking  out  upon 
the  port  itself.  Some  lanes  cut — as  steps  cut  the  two 
parallels  of  the  ladder — the  two  great  straight  lines  of  the 
port  and  the  street.  By  these  lanes,  passengers  debouched 
suddenly  from  the  port  into  the  street,  from  the  street  on 
to  the  port.  D'Artagnan,  arrived  at  the  port,  took  one  of 
these  lanes,  and  came  out  in  front  of  the  hostelry  of  Le 
Grand  Monarque.  The  moment  was  well  chosen,  and  might 
remind  D'Artagnan  of  his  start  in  life  at  the  hostelry  of 
the  Franc-Meunier  at  Meune.     Some  sailors  who  had  been 


148  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE, 

playing  at  dice  had  knocked  up  a  quarrel,  and  were  threat- 
ening each  other  furiously.  The  host,  hostess,  and  two 
lads  were  watching  with  anxiety  the  circle  of  these  angry 
gamblers,  from  the  midst  of  which  war  seemed  ready  to 
break  forth,  bristling  with  knives  and  hatchets.  The  play, 
nevertheless,  was  continued.  A  stone  bench  was  occupied 
by  two  men,  who  appeared  thence  to  watch  the  door;  four 
tables,  placed  at  the  back  of  the  common  chamber,  were 
occupied  by  eight  other  individuals.  Neither  the  men  at 
the  door  nor  those  at  the  tables  took  any  part  in  the  play  or 
the  quarrel.  D'Artagnan  recognized  his  ten  men  in  these 
cold,  indifferent  spectators.  The  quarrel  went  on  increas- 
ing. Every  passion  has,  like  the  sea,  its  tide,  which  ascends 
and  descends.  Arrived  at  the  climax  of  passion,  one  sailor 
overturned  the  table  and  the  money  which  was  upon  it. 
The  table  fell,  and  the  money  rolled  about.  In  an  instant 
all  belonging  to  the  hostelry  threw  themselves  upon  the 
stakes,  and  many  a  piece  of  silver  was  picked  up  by  people 
who  stole  away  while  the  sailors  were  scuffling  with  one 
another. 

The  two  men  on  the  bench  and  the  eight  at  the  tables, 
although  they  seemed  perfect  strangers  to  one  another, 
these  ten  men  alone,  we  say,  appeared  to  have  agreed  to 
remain  impassible  amid  the  cries  of  fury  and  chinking  of 
money.  Two  only  contented  themselves  with  repulsing 
with  their  feet  combatants  who  came  under  their  table. 
Two  others,  rather  than  take  part  in  this  disturbance^, 
buried  their  hands  in  their  pockets;  and  another  two 
jumped  upon  the  table  they  occupied,  as  people  do  to  avoid 
being  submerged  by  overflowing  water. 

"Come,  come,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  not  having 
lost  one  of  the  details  we  have  related,  "this  is  a  very  fair 
gathering — circumspect,  calm,  accustomed  to  disturbance, 
acquainted  with  blows.     Peste!    I  have  been  lucky." 

All  at  once  his  attention  was  called  to  a  particular  part 
of  the  room.  The  two  men  who  had  repulsed  the  strugglers 
with  their  feet  were  assailed  with  abuse  by  the  sailors,  who 
had  become  reconciled.  One  of  them,  half-drunk  with 
passion,  and  quite  drunk  with  beer,  came,  in  a  menacing 
manner,  to  demand  of  the  shorter  of  these  two  sages  by 
what  right  he  had  touched  with  his  foot  creatures  of  the 
good  God  who  were  not  dogs.  And  while  putting  this 
question,  in  order  to  make  it  more  direct,  he  applied  his 
great  fist  to  the  nose  of  D'Artagnan's  recruit.  This  man 
became  pale,  without  ita  being  discerned  whether  his  pale- 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELON*N>E.  149 

mess  arose  from  anger  or  from  fear;  seeing  which,  the  sailor 
concluded  it  was  from  fear,  and  raised  his  fist  with  the 
manifest  intention  of  letting  it  fall  upon  the  head  of  the 
stranger.  But,  without  the  threatened  man  having  ap- 
peared to  move,  he  dealt  the  sailor  such  a  severe  blow  in 
the  stomach  as  sent  him  rolling  and  howling  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room.  At  the  same  instant,  rallied  by  the  esprit 
de  corps,  all  the  comrades  of  the  conquered  man  fell  upon 
the  conqueror.  The  latter,  with  the  same  coolness  of  which 
he  had  given  proof,  without  committing  the  imprudence  of 
touching  his  arms,  took  up  a  beer-pot  with  a  pewter  lid, 
and  knocked  down  two  or  three  of  his  assailants;  then,  as 
he  was  about  to  yield  to  numbers,  the  seven  other  silent 
men  at  the  tables,  who  had  not  stirred,  perceived  that  their 
cause  was  at  stake,  and  came  to  the  rescue.  At  the  same 
time,  the  two  indifferent  spectators  at  the  door  turned 
round  with  frowning  brows,  indicating  their  evident  inten- 
tion of  taking  the  enemy  in  the  rear,  if  the  enemy  did  not 
cease  their  aggressions.  The  host,  his  helpers,  and  two 
watchmen  who  were  passing,  and  who,  from  curiosity,  had 
penetrated  too  far  into  the  room,  were  confounded  in  the 
tumult  and  loaded  with  blows.  The  Parisians  hit  like 
Cyclops,  with  an  ensemble  and  a  tactic  delight  to  behold. 
At  length,  obliged  to  beat  a  retreat  before  numbers,  they 
formed  an  intrenchment  behind  the  great  table,  which  they 
raised  by  main  force;  while  the  two  others,  arming  them- 
selves each  with  a  trestle,  so  that,  using  it  like  a  great 
sledgehammer,  they  knocked  down  at  a  blow  eight  sailors 
upon  whose  heads  they  had  brought  their  monstrous  cata- 
pult in  play.  The  floor  was  already  strewn  with  wounded, 
and  the  room  filled  with  cries  and  dust,  when  D'Artagnan, 
satisfied  with  the  test,  advanced,  sword  in  hand,  and  strik- 
ing with  the  pommel  every  head  that  came  in  his  way,  he 
uttered  a  vigorous  hold!  which  put  an  instantaneous  end  to 
the  conflict.  A  great  back-flood  directly  took  place  from 
the  center  to  the  sides  of  the  room,  so  that  D'Artagnan 
found  himself  isolated  and  dominator. 

"What  is  ali  this  about?"  then  demanded  he  of  the  as- 
sembly, with  the  majestic  tone  of  Neptune  pronouncing  the 
Quos  ego. 

At  the  very  instant,  at  the  first  sound  of  his  voice,  to 
carry  on  the  Virgilian  metaphor,  D'Artagnan 's  recruits, 
recognizing  each  his  sovereign  lord,  discontinued,  at  the 
same  time,  his  anger,  his  plank-fighting,  and  trestle  blows. 
On  their  side,  the  sailors,  seeing  that  long  naked  sword, 


150  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONSTE. 

that  martial  air,  and  the  agile  arm  which  came  to  the  rescue 
of  their  enemies,  in  the  person  of  a  man  Avho  seemed  accus- 
tomed to  command,  on  their  part,  the  sailors  picked  up 
their  wounded  and  their  pitchers.  The  Parisians  wiped 
their  brows,  and  viewed  their  leader  with  respect.  D'Ar- 
tagnan was  loaded  with  thanks  by  the  host  of  Le  Grand 
Monarque.  He  received  them  like  a  man  who  knows  that 
nothing  is  being  offered  that  does  not  belong  to  him,  and 
then  said  till  supper  was  ready  he  would  go  and  walk  upon 
the  port.  Immediately  each  of  the  recruits,  who  under- 
stood the  summons,  took  his  hat,  brushed  the  dust  off  his 
clothes,  and  followed  D'Artagnan.  But  D'Artagnan,  while 
observing,  examined  everything,  took  care  not  to  stop;  he 
directed  his  course  toward  the  dune,  and  the  ten  men — sur- 
prised at  finding  themselves  going  in  the  track  of  one  an- 
other, uneasy  at  seeing,  on  their  right,  on  their  left,  and 
behind  them,  companions  upon  whom  they  had  not  reck- 
oned— followed  him,  casting  furtive  glances  at  one  another. 
It  was  not  till  he  had  arrived  at  the  hollow  part  of  the 
deepest  dune  that  D'Artagnan,  smiling  at  seeing  their  shy- 
ness, turned  toward  them,  making  a  friendly  sign  with  his 
hand. 

"Eh!  come,  come,  messieurs,"  said  he;  "let  us  not  de- 
vour one  another;  you  are  made  to  live  together,  to  under- 
stand one  another  in  all  respects;  and  not  one  to  devour 
the  other." 

Instantly  all  hesitation  ceased;  the  men  breathed  as  if 
they  had  been  taken  out  of  a  coffin,  and  examined  one 
another  complacently.  After  this  examination  they  turned 
their  eyes  toward  their  leader,  who  had  long  been  ac- 
quainted with  the  art  of  speaking  to  men  of  that  class,  and 
improvised  the  following  little  speech,  pronounced  with  an 
energy  truly  Gascon: 

"Messieurs,  you  all  know  who  I  am.  I  have  engaged  you 
from  knowing  you  are  brave,  and  from  being  willing  to 
associate  you  with  me  in  a  glorious  enterprise.  Figure  to 
yourselves  that  in  laboring  for  me  you  labor  for  the  king. 
I  only  warn  you  that  if  you  allow  anything  of  this  supposi- 
tion to  appear,  I  shall  be  forced  to  crack  your  skulls  imme- 
diately, in  the  manner  most  convenient  to  me.  You  are 
not  ignorant,  messieurs,  that  state  secrets  are  like  a  mortal 
poison;  as  long  as  that  poison  is  in  its  box  and  the  box 
is  closed,  it  is  not  injurious;  out  of  the  box,  it  kills.  Now 
draw  near,  and  you  shall  know  as  much  of  this  secret  as  I 
am  able  to  tell  you."    All  drew  close  to  kirn  with  an  ex' 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOTOTE.  151 

pression  of  curiosity.  "Approach/'  continued  D'Artag- 
nan, "and  let  not  the  bird  which  passes  over  our  heads,  the 
rabbit  which  sports  in  the  dunes,  ^he  fish  which  bounds 
from  the  waters,  heav  us.  Our  business  is  to  learn  and  to 
report  to  Monsieur  le  Surintendant  of  the  Finances  to  what 
extent  English  smuggling  is  injurious  to  French  merchants. 
I  will  enter  every  place,  and  will  see  everything.  We  are  poor 
Picard  fishermen,  thrown  upon  the  coast  by  a  storm.  It  is 
certain  that  we  must  sell  fish,  neither  more  nor  less,  like 
true  fishermen.  Only  people  might  guess  who  we  are,  and 
might  molest  us;  it  is  therefore  necessary  that  we  should  be 
in  a  condition  to  defend  ourselves.  And  this  is  why  I  have 
selected  men  of  spirit  and  courage.  We  will  lead  a  steady 
life,  and  we  shall  not  incur  much  danger,  seeing  that  we 
have  behind  us  a  powerful  protector,  thanks  to  whom  no 
embarrassment  is  possible.  One  thing  alone  puzzles  me; 
but  I  hope,  after  a  short  explanation,  you  will  relieve  me 
from  that  ditficulty.  The  thing  which  puzzles  me  is  taking 
with  me  a  crew  of  stupid  fishermen,  which  crew  will  annoy 
me  immensely,  while  if,  by  chance,  there  are  among  you 
any  who  have  seen  the  sea " 

"Oh!  let  not  that  trouble  you,"  said  one  of  the  recruits; 
"I  was  a  prisoner  among  the  pirates  of  Tunis  three  years, 
and  can  maneuver  a  boat  like  an  admiral." 

"See,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "what  an  admirable  thing 
chance  is!"  D'Artagnan  pronounced  these  words  with  an 
indefinable  tone  of  feigned  bonhomie,  for  D'Artagnan  knew 
very  well  that  the  victim  of  pirates  was  an  old  corsair,  and 
he  had  engaged  him  in  cpnsequence  of  that  knowledge. 
But  D'Artagnan  never  said  more  than  there  was  occasion 
for  saying,  in  order  to  leave  people  in  doubt.  He  paid 
himself  with  the  explanation,  and  welcomed  the  effect, 
without  appearing  to  be  preoccupied  with  the  cause. 

"And  I,"  said  a  second,  "I,  by  chance,  had  an  uncle 
who  directed  the  works  of  the  port  of  La  Rochelle.  When 
quite  a  child,  I  played  about  the  boats,  and  I  know  how  to 
handle  an  oar  or  a  sail  as  well  as  the  best  Ponantais  sailor." 

The  last  did  not  lie  much  more  than  the  first,  for  he  had 
rowed  on  board  his  majesty's  galleys  six  years,  at  Ciotat. 
Two  others  were  more  frank;  they  confessed  honestly  that 
they  had  served  on  board  a  vessel  as  soldiers  on  punishment, 
and  did  not  blush  at  it.  D'Artagnan  found  himself,  then, 
the  leader  of  ten  men-of-war  and  four  sailors,  having  at 
once  a  land  army  and  a  sea  force,  which  would  have  carried 
the  pride  of  Plaochet  to  its  height,  if  Planchet  had  knowa 
the  details. 


152  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELOXNE, 

Nothing  was  now  left  but  the  general  orders,  and  D'Ar- 
tagnan  gave  them  with  precision.  He  enjoined  his  men  to 
be  ready  to  set  out  for  the  Hague,  some  following  the  coast 
which  leads  to  Breskens,  others  the  road  to  Antwerp.  The 
rendezvous  was  given  by  calculating  each  day's  march  at 
fifteen  days  from  that  time,  upon  the  chief  place  at  the 
Hague.  D'Artagnan  recommended  his  men  to  go  in 
couples,  as  they  liked  best,  from  sympathy.  He  himself 
selected  from  among  those  with  the  least  hanging  look  two 
guards  who  he  had  formerly  known,  and  whose  only  faults 
were  being  drunkards  and  gamblers.  These  men  had  not 
entirely  lost  all  ideas  of  civilization,  and  under  proper 
habiliments  their  hearts  would  have  renewed,  their  beatings. 
D'Artagnan,  not  to  create  any  jealousy  to  the  others,  made 
the  rest  go  forward.  He  kept  his  two  selected  ones, 
clothed  them  from  his  own  kit,  and  set  out  with  them.  It 
was  to  these  two,  whom  he  seemed  to  honor  with  an  abso- 
lute confidence,  that  D'Artagnan  imparted  a  false  confi- 
dence, destined  to  secure  the  success  of  the  expedition.  He 
confessed  to  them  that  the  object  was  not  to  learn  to  what 
extent  the  French  merchants  were  injured  by  English 
smuggling,  but  to  learn  how  far  French  smuggling  con  Id 
annoy  English  trade.  These  men  appeared  convinced; 
they  were  effectively  so.  D'Artagnan  was  quite  sure  that 
at  the  first  debauch,  when  thoroughly  drunk,  one  of  the 
two  would  divulge  the  secret  to  the  whole  band.  His  plav 
appeared  infallible. 

A  fortnight  after  all  we  have  said  had  taken  place  at 
Calais,  the  whole  troop  assembled  at  the  Hague.  Then 
D'Artagnan  perceived  that  all  his  men,  with  remarkable 
intelligence,  had  already  travestied  themselves  into  sailors, 
more  or  less  ill-treated  by  the  sea.  D'Artagnan  left  them 
to  sleep  in  a  cabin  in  Newkerke  street,  while  he  lodged 
comfortably  upon  the  Grand  Canal.  He  learned  that  the 
King  of  England  had  come  back  to  his  old  ally,  William  II. 
of  Nassau,  stadtholder  of  Holland.  He  learned  also  that 
the  refusal  of  Louis  XIV.  had  a  little  cooled  the  protection 
afforded  him  up  to  that  time,  and  in  consequence  he  had 
gone  to  reside  in  a  little  village  house  at  Scheveningen, 
situated  in  the  dunes,  on  the  seashore,  about  a  league  from 
the  Hague.  There,  it  was  said,  the  unfortunate  banished 
king  consoled  himself  in  his  exile,  by  looking,  with  the 
melancholy  peculiar  to  the  princes  of  his  race,  at  that  im- 
mense North  Sea  which  separated  him  from  his  England. 
as  it  had  formerly  separated  Mary  Stuart  from  France. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  153 

There,  behind  the  trees  of  the  beautiful  wood  of  Scheven* 
ingen,  on  the  fine  sand  upon  which  gi'ows  the  golden  broom 
of  the  dune,  Charles  II.  vegetated  as  it  did,  more  unfor- 
tunate than  it,  for  he  had  life  and  thought,  and  he  hoped 
and  despaired  by  turns. 

D'Artagnan  went  once  as  far  as  Scheveningen,  in  order 
to  be  certain  that  all  was  true  that  was  said  of  the  king. 
He  beheld  Charles  II.,  pensive  and  alone,  coming  out  of  a 
little  door  opening  into  the  wood,  and  walking  on  the  beach 
in  the  setting  sun,  without  even  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  fishermen,  who,  on  their  return  in  the  evening,  drew, 
like  the  ancient  m  iriners  of  the  Archipelago,  their  barks  up 
upon  the  sand  of  the  shore.  D'Artagnan  recognized  tho 
king;  he  saw  him  fix  his  melancholy  look  upon  the  im- 
mense extent  of  the  waters,  and  absorb  upon  his  pale 
countenance  the  red  rays  of  the  sun  already  sloped  by  the 
black  line  of  the  horizon.  Then  Charles  returned  to  his 
isolated  abode,  still  alone,  still  slow  and  sad,  amusing  him- 
self with  making  the  friable  and  moving  sand  creak  beneath 
his  feet.  That  very  evening  D'Artagnan  hired  for  a  thou- 
sand livres  a  fishing-boat  worth  four  thousand.  He  paid  a 
thousand  livres  down,  and  deposited  the  three  thousand 
with  a  burgomaster,  after  which  he  embarked  without  their 
being  seen,  and  in  a  dark  night,  the  ten  men  who  formed 
his  land  army;  and  with  the  rising  tide,  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  he  got  into  the  open  sea,  maneuvering  ostensi- 
bly with  the  four  others,  and  depending  upon  the  science 
of  his  galley-slave  as  upon  that  of  the  first  pilot  of  the  port. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

IN   WHICH    THE    AUTHOR,    VERY    UNWILLINGLY,    IS     FORCED 
TO   DO   A   LITTLE   HISTORY. 

While  kings  and  men  were  thus  occupied  with  England, 
which  governed  itself  quite  alone,  and  which,  it  must  be 
said  to  its  praise,  had  never  been  so  badly  governed,  a  man 
upon  whom  God  had  fixed  His  eye  aud  placed  His  finger, 
a  man  predestined  to  write  his  name  in  brilliant  letters  in 
the  book  of  history,  was  pursuing  in  the  face  of  the  world 
a  work  full  of  mystery  and  audacity.  He  went  on,  and  no 
one  knew  whither  he  meant  to  go,  although  not  only  Eng- 
land, but  France,  but  Europe,  watched  him  marching  with 
a  firm  step  and  a  lofty  head.     All  that  was  known  of  thia 


154  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGlLOffNE. 

man  we  are  about  to  tell.  Monk  had  just  declared  for  tht 
liberty  of  the  Rump  Parliament,  a  parliament  which  Gen- 
eral Lambert,  imitating  Cromwell,  whose  lieutenant  he  had 
been,  had  just  blocked  up  so  closely,  in  order  to  bring.it  to 
his  will,  that  no  member,  during  all  the  blockade,  was  able 
to  go  out,  and  only  one,  Peter  Wentworth,  had  been  able 
to  get  in.  Lambert  and  Monk — everything  was  resumed 
under  these  two  men;  the  first  representing  military  despot- 
ism, the  second  representing  pure  republicanism.  These 
men  were  the  two  sole  political  representatives  of  that  revo- 
lution in  which  Charles  I.  had  at  first  lost  his  crown  and 
afterward  his  head.  As  regarded  Lambert,  he  did  not  dis- 
semble his  views;  he  sought  to  establish  a  military  govern- 
ment, and  to  be  himself  the  head  of  that  government. 

Monk,  a  rigid  republican,  some  said,  wished  to  maintain 
the  Rump  Parliament,  that  visible  representation,  although 
degenerated,  of  the  republic.  Monk,  artful  and  ambitious, 
said  others,  wished  simply  to  make  of  this  parliament, 
which  he  affected  to  protect,  a  solid  step  by  which  to  mount 
the  throne  which  Cromwell  had  made  empty,  but  upon 
which  he  had  never  dared  to  take  his  seat.  Thus  Lambert, 
by  persecuting  the  parliament,  and  Monk,  by  declaring  for 
it,  had  mutually  proclaimed  themselves  enemies  of  each 
other.  Monk  and  Lambert,  therefore,  had  at  first  thought 
of  creating  an  army  each  for  himself;  Monk  in  Scotland, 
where  were  the  Presbyterians  and  the  royalists,  that  is  to 
say,  the  malcontents;  Lambert  in  London,  where  was 
found,  as  is  always  the  case,  the  strongest  opposition  against 
the  power  which  it  had  beneath  its  eyes.  Monk  had  paci- 
fied Scotland;  he  had  there  formed  for  himself  an  army, 
and  found  an  aslyum.  The  one  watched  the  other.  Monk 
knew  that  the  day  was  not  yet  come,  the  day  marked  by 
the  Lord  for  a  great  change;  his  sword,  therefore,  appeared 
glued  to  the  sheath.  Inexpugnable  in  his  wild  and  moun- 
tainous Scotland,  an  absolute  general,  king  of  an  army  of 
eleven  thousand  old  soldiers,  whom  he  had  more  than  once 
led  on  to  victory;  as  well  informed,  nay,  even  better,  of 
the  affairs  of  London  than  Lambert,  who  held  garrison  in 
the  city — such  was  the  position  of  Monk,  when,  at  a  hun- 
dred leagues  from  London,  he  declared  himself  for  the 
parliament.  Lambert,  on  the  contrary,  as  we  have  said, 
lived  in  the  capital.  That  was  the  center  of  all  his  opera- 
tions, and  he  there  collected  around  him  all  his  friends, 
and  all  the  lower  class  of  the  people,  eternally  inclined  to 
cherish  the  enemies  of  constituted  power.     It  was  then  in 


THE   TICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  155 

London  that  Lambert  learned  the  support  that,  from  the 
frontiers  of  Scotland,  Monk  lent  to  the  parliament.  He 
judged  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  that  the  Tweed 
was  not  so  far  distant  from  the  Thames  that  an  army  could 
not  march  from  one  river  to  the  other,  particularly  when  it 
was  well  commanded.  He  knew,  besides,  that  as  fast  as 
the  soldiers  of  Monk  penetrated  into  England  they  would 
form  on  their  route  that  ball  of  snow,  the  emblem  of  the 
globe  of  fortune,  which  is  for  the  ambitious  nothing  but  a 
step  growing  unceasingly  higher  to  conduct  him  to  his 
object.  He  got  together,  then,  his  army,  formidable  at 
the  same  time  for  its  composition  and  its  numbers,  and 
hastened  to  meet  Monk,  who,  on  his  part,  like  a  prudent 
navigator  sailing  amid  rocks,  advanced  by  very  short 
marches,  his  nose  to  the  wind,  listening  to  the  reports  and 
scenting  the  air  which  came  from  London. 

The  two  armies  came  in  sight  of  each  other  near  New- 
castle; Lambert,  arriving  first,  encamped  in  the  city  itself. 
Monk, -always  circumspect,  stopped  where  he  was,  and 
placed  his  general  quarters  at  Coldstream,  on  the  Tweed. 
The  sight  of  Lambert  spread  joy  through  the  army  of 
Monk,  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  sight  of  Monk  threw 
disorder  into  the  army  of  Lambert.  It  might  have  been 
believed  that  these  intrepid  warriors,  who  had  made  such 
a  noise  in  the  streets  of  London,  had  set  out  with  the  hope 
of  meeting  no  one,  and  that  now,  seeing  that  they  had  met 
an  army,  and  that  army  hoisted  before  them  not  only  a 
standard,  but  still  further,  a  cause  and  a  principle — it 
might  have  been  believed,  we  say,  that  these  intrepid 
warriors  had  begun  to  reflect  that  they  were  less  good  re- 
publicans than  the  soldiers  of  Monk,  since  the  latter  sup- 
ported the  parliament,  while  Lambert  supported  nothing, 
not  even  himself.  As  to  Monk,  if  he  had  had  to  reflect,  or 
if  he  did  reflect,  it  must  have  been  after  a  sad  fashion,  for 
history  relates — and  that  modest  dame,  it  is  well  known> 
never  lies — for  history  relates  that  the  day  of  his  arrival  at 
Coldstream  search  was  made  in  vain  throughout  the  place 
for  a  single  sheep. 

If  Monk  had  commanded  an  English  army,  that  was 
enough  to  have  brought  about  a  general  desertion.  But  it 
is  not  with  the  Scotch  as  it  is  with  the  English,  to  whom 
that  fluid  flesh  which  is  called  blood  is  a  paramount  neces- 
sity. The  Scotch,  a  poor  and  sober  race,  live  upon  a  little 
barley  crushed  between  two  stones,  diluted  with  the  water 
of  ihe  fountain,  and  cooked  upon  another  stone,  heated* 


156  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

The  Scotch,  their  distribution  of  barley  being  made,  cared 
very  little  whether  there  was  or  was  not  any  meat  in  Cold- 
stream. Monk,  little  accustomed  to  barley-cakes,  was 
hungry,  and  his  staff,  at  least  as  hungry  as  himself,  looked 
with  anxiety  to  the  right  and  left  to  know  what  was  being 
got  ready  for  supper.  Monk  ordered  search  to  be  made; 
his  scouts  had,  on  arriving  in  the  place,  found  it  deserted 
and  the  cupboards  empty;  upon  butchers  and  bakers  it  was 
of  no  use  depending  in  Coldstream.  The  smallest  morsel 
of  bread,  then,  could  not  be  found  for  the  general's  table. 

As  accounts  succeeded  one  another,  all  equally  unsatis 
factory,  Monk,  seeing  terror  and  discouragement  upon 
every  face,  declared  that  he  was  not  hungry;  besides,  they 
should  eat  on  the  morrow,  since  Lambert  was  there,  prob- 
ably with  the  intention  of  giving  battle,  and,  consequently, 
to  give  up  his  provisions,  if  he  were  forced  in  Newcastle,  or 
to  deliver  the  soldiers  of  Monk  from  hunger  forever  if  he 
were  conquered.  This  consolation  was  not  efficacious  but 
upon  a  very  small  number;  but  of  what  importance  was  it 
to  Monk,  for  Monk  was  very  absolute,  under  the  appear- 
ance of  the  most  perfect  mildness?  Every  one,  therefore, 
was  obliged  to  be  satisfied,  or,  at  least,  to  appear  so.  Monk, 
quite  as  hungry  as  his  people,  but  affecting  perfect  indiffer- 
ence for  the  absent  mutton,  cut  a  fragment  of  tobacco,  half 
an  inch  long,  from  the  carotte  of  a  sergeant  who  formed 
part  of  his  suite,  and  began  to  masticate  the  said  fragment, 
assuring  his  lieutenants  that  hunger  was  a  chimera,  and 
that,  besides,  people  were  never  hungry  when  they  had 
anything  to  chew.  This  pleasantry  satisfied  some  of  those 
who  had  resisted  Monk's  first  deduction  from  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Lambert's  army;  the  number  of  thp.  dissentients 
diminished  then  greatly;  the  guard  took  their  posts,  the 
patrols  began,  and  the  general  continued  his  frugal  repast 
beneath  his  open  tent. 

Between  his  camp  and  that  of  the  enemy  stood  an  old 
abbey,  of  which,  at  the  present  day,  there  only  remain  some 
ruins,  but  which  then  was  in  existence,  and  was  called  New- 
castle Abbey.  It  was  built  upon  a  vast  site,  independent 
at  once  of  the  plain  and  of  the  river,  because  it  was  almost 
a  marsh  fed  by  springs  and  kept  up  by  rains.  Neverthe- 
less, in  the  midst  of  these  strips  of  water,  covered  with  long 
grass,  rushes,  and  reeds,  were  seen  elevated  solid  spots  of 
ground,  consecrated  formerly  to  the  kitchen-parden,  the 
park,  the  pleasure  gardens,  and  other  dependencies  of  the 
abhey.  lik«   i»hr   of   (.hose  great   sfsi-KpuWs   whyse   hony  i| 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONME.  157 

ound  while  the  claws  go  diverging  round  from  this  circum- 
ference. The  kitchen-garden,  one  of  the  longest  claws  of 
the  abbey,  extended  to  the  camp  of  Monk.  Unfortunately 
it  was,  as  we  have  said,  early  in  June,  and  the  kitchen- 
garden,  being  abandoned,  offered  no  resources.  Monk  had 
ordered  this  spot  to  be  guarded,  as  most  subject  to  sur- 
prises. The  fires  of  the  enemy's  general  were  plainly  to  be 
perceived  on  the  other  side  of  the  abbey.  But  between 
these  fires  and  the  abbey  extended  the  Tweed,  unfolding  its 
luminous  scales  beneath  the  thick  shade  of  tall  green  oaks. 
Monk  was  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  this  position, 
Newcastle  and  its  environs  having  already  more  than  once 
been  his  headquarters.  He  knew  that  by  day  his  enemy 
might,  without  doubt,  throw  a  few  eclaireurs  into  these 
ruins  and  promote  a  skirmish,  but  that  by  night  he  would 
take  care  to  abstain  from  such  a  risk.  He  felt  himself, 
therefore,  in  security.  Thus  his  soldiers  saw  him,  after 
what  he  boastingly  called  his  supper — that  is  to  say,  after  the 
exercise  of  mastication  reported  by  us  at  the  commence- 
_ment  of  this  chapter — like  Napoleon  on  the  eve  of  Auster- 
litz,  sleeping  seated  in  his  rush  chair,  half  beneath  the  light 
of  his  lamp,  half  beneath  the  reflection  of  the  moon,  com- 
mencing its  ascent  into  the  heavens,  which  denoted  that  it 
was  nearly  half-past  nine  in  the  evening.  All  at  once  Monk 
was  roused  from  his  half-sleep,  factitious,  perhaps,  by  a 
troop  of  soldiers,  who  came  with  joyous  cries,  and  kicked 
the  poles  of  his  tent  with  a  humming  noise  as  if  on  purpose 
!  to  wake  him.  There  was  no  need  of  so  much  noise;  the 
general  opened  his  eyes  quickly. 

"Well,  my  children,  what  is  going  on  now?"  asked  the 
general. 

"General,"  replied  several  voices  at  once,  "general,  you 
shall  have  some  supper." 

"I  have  had  my  supper,  gentlemen,"  replied  he  quietly, 
"and  was  comfortably  digesting  it,  as  you  see.  But  come 
in,  and  tell  me  what  brings  you  hither." 

"Good  news,  general." 

"Bah!  Has  Lambert  sent  us  word  that  he  will  fight  to- 
morrow?" 

"No;  but  we  have  just  captured  a  fishing-boat  conveying 
fish  to  Newcastle." 

"And  you  have  done  very  wrong,  my  friends.  These 
gentlemen  from  London  are  delicate;  they  smack  of  their 
first  service;  you  will  put  them  sadly  out  of  humor  this 
evening,  and  to-morrow  they  will  be   pitiless.     It   would 


158  THE  VICOMTE    DE   BKAGELOtfNE. 

really  be  in  good  taste  to  send  back  to  Lambert  both  un 
fish  and  his  fishermen,  unless" — and  the  general  reflected  an 
instant. 

"Tell  me,"  continued  he,  "what  are  these  fishermen,  if 
you  please?" 

"Some  Picard  seamen  who  were  fishing  on  the  coast  oi 
France  or  Holland,  and  who  have  been  thrown  upon  ours 
by  a  gale  of  wind." 

"Do  any  among  them  speak  our  language?" 

"The  leader  spoke  some  few  words  of  English." 

The  mistrust  of  the  general  was  awakened  in  proportion 
as  fresh  information  reached  him.  "That  is  well,"  said  he. 
"I  wish  to  see  these  men;  bring  them  to  me." 

An  officer  immediately  went  to  fetch  them. 

"How  many  are  there  of  them?"  continued  Monk;  "and 
what  is  their  vessel?" 

"There  are  ten  or  twelve  of  them,  general,  and  they  were 
aboard  of  a  kind  of  chasse-maree,  as  it  is  called — Dutch- 
built,  apparently." 

"And  you  say  they  were  carrying  fish  to  Lambert's 
camp?" 

"Yes,  general;  and  they  seem  to  have  had  good  luck  in 
their  fishing." 

"Humph!    We  shall  see  that,"  said  Monk. 

At  this  moment  the  officer  returned,  bringing  the  leader 
of  the  fishermen  with  him.  He  was  a  man  from  fifty  to 
fifty-five  years  old,  but  good-looking  for  his  age.  He  was 
of  middle  height,  and  wore  a  justau-corps  of  coarse  wool;  a 
cap  pulled  down  over  his  eyes;  a  cutlass  hung  from  his  belt, 
and  he  walked  with  the  hesitation  peculiar  to  sailors,  who, 
never  knowing,  thanks  to  the  movement  of  the  vessel, 
whether  their  foot  will  be  placed  upon  the  plank  or  upon 
nothing,  give  to  every  one  of  their  steps  a  fall  as  firm  as  if 
they  were  driving  a  pile.  Monk,  with  an  acute  and  pene- 
trating look,  examined  the  fisherman  for  some  time,  while 
the  latter  smiled,  with  that  smile,  half-cunning,  half-silly, 
peculiar  to  French  peasants. 

"Do  you  speak  English?"  asked  Monk,  in  excellent 
French. 

"Ah!  but  badly,  my  lord,"  replied  the  fisherman. 

This  reply  was  made  much  more  with  the  lively  and 
sharp  accentuation  of  the  people  beyond  the  Loire,  than 
with  the  slightly  drawling  accent  of  the  countries  on  the 
west  and  north  of  France- 

"But  you  do  speak  it?"  persisted  Monk,  in  order  to  ex- 
amine his  accent  once  more 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  159 

"Eh!  we  men  of  the  sea,"  replied  the  fisherman,  '"speak 
a  little  of  all  languages. " 

"Then  you  are  a  sea  fisherman?" 

"I  am  at  present,  my  lord — a  fisherman,  and  a  famous 
fisherman,  too.  I  have  taken  a  barbel  that  weighs  at  least 
thirty  pounds,  and  more  than  fifty  mullets;  I  have  also 
some  little  whitings  that  will  fry  beautifully." 

"You  appear  to  me  to  have  fished  more  frequently  in  the 
Gulf  of  Gascony  than  in  the  Channel,"  said  Monk  smiling. 

"Well,  I  am  from  the  south;  but  does  that  prevent  me 
from  being  a  good  fisherman,  my  lord?" 

"Oh!  not  at  all;  I  will  buy  your  fish.  And  now  speak 
frankly,  for  whom  did  you  destine  them?" 

"My  lord,  I  will  conceal  nothing  from  you.  I  was  going 
to  Newcastle,  following  the  coast,  when  a  party  of  horse- 
men who  were  passing  along  in  an  opposite  direction  made 
a  sign  to  my  bark  to  turn  back  to  your  honor's  camp, 
under  penalty  of  a  discharge  of  musketry.  As  I  was  not 
armed  for  fighting,"  added  the  fisherman  smiling,  "I  was 
forced  to  submit." 

"And  why  did  you  go  to  Lambert's  camp  in  preference 
to  mine?" 

"My  lord,  I  will  be  frank;  will  your  lordship  permit  me?" 

"Yes,  and  even  if  there  be  occasion,  shall  command  you 
to  be  so.'; 

"Well,  my  lord,  I  was  going  to  Monsieur  Lambert's  camp 
because  those  gentlemen  from  the  city  pay  well — while  your 
Scotchmen,  Puritans,  Presbyterians,  Covenanters,  or  what- 
ever you  choose  to  call  them,  eat  but  little,  and  pay  for 
nothing." 

Monk  shrugged  his  shoulders,  without,  however,  being 
able  to  refrain  from  smiling  at  the  same  time.  "How  is  it 
chat,  being  from  the  south,  you  come  to  fish  on  our  coast?" 

"Because  I  have  been  fool  enough  to  marry  in  Picardy." 

"Yes;  but  even  Picardy  is  not  England." 

"My  lord,  man  shoves  his  boat  into  the  sea,  but  God  and 
the  wind  do  the  rest,  and  drive  the  boat  where  they  please." 

"You  had,  then,  no  intention  of  landing  on  our  coast?" 

"Never." 

"And  what  route  were  you  steering?" 

"We  were  returning  from  Ostend,  where  some  mackerel 
have  been  seen  already,  when  a  sharp  wind  from  the  south 
drove  us  from  our  course;  then,  seeing  that  it  was  useless 
to  struggle  against  it,  we  let  it  drive  us.  It  then  became 
accessary,  not  to  loss  our  fish,  which  were  good,  to  go  and 


160  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

sell  them  at  the  nearest  English  port,  and  that  was  New* 
castle.  We  were  told  the  opportunity  was  good,  as  there 
was  an  increase  of  population  in  the  camp,  an  increase  of 
population  in  the  city;  both,  we  were  told,  were  full  of  gen- 
tlemen, very  rich  and  very  hungry.  So  we  steered  our 
course  toward  Newcastle." 

"And  your  companions,  where  are  they?" 

"Oh!  my  companions  have  remained  on  board;  they  are 
'sailors  without  the  least  instruction." 

"While  you—"  said  Monk. 

"Who,  I?"  said  the  patron,  laughing;  "I  have  sailed 
about  with  my  father,  and  I  know  what  is  called  a  sou,  a 
crown,  a  pistole,  a  louis,  and  a  double-louis,  in  all  th& 
languages  of  Europe;  my  crew,  therefore,  listen  to  me  as 
they  would  to  an  oracle  and  obey  me  as  if  I  were  an 
admiral." 

"Then  it  was  you  who  preferred  Monsieur  Lambert  as 
the  best  customer?" 

"Yes,  certainly.  And,  to  be  frank,  my  lord,  was  I 
wrong?" 

"You  will  see  that  by  and  by." 

"At  all  events,  my  lord,  if  there  is  a  fault,  the  fault  is 
mine;  and  my  comrades  should  not  be  dealt  hardly  with  on 
that  account." 

"This  is  decidedly  an  intelligent,  sharp  fellow,"  thought 
Monk.  Then,  after  a  few  minutes*  silence  employed  in 
scrutinizing  the  fisherman:  "You  come  from  Ostend,  did 
you  not  say?"  asked  the  general. 

"Yes,  my  lord,  straight  as  a  line." 

"You  have,  then,  heard  speak  of  the  affairs  of  the  day: 
for  I  have  no  doubt  that  both  in  France  and  Holland  thsj 
excite  interest.  What  is  he  doing  who  calls  himself  Kinc 
of  England?" 

"Oh,  my  lord!"  cried  the  fisherman,  with  loud  and  ex- 
pansive frankness,  "that  is  a  lucky  question,  and  you  could 
not  put  it  to  anybody  better  than  to  me,  for  in  truth  I  can 
make  you  a  famous  reply,, ,  Imagine,  my  lord,  that  when 
putting  into  Ostend  to  sell  the  few  mackerel  we  had  caught, 
I  saw  the  ex-king  walking  on  the  dunes,  waiting  for  his 
horces  which  were  to  take  him  to  the  Hague.  He  is  a 
rather  tali,  pale  man,  with  black  hair,  and  somewhat  hard- 
featured.  He  looks  ill,  and  I  don't  think  the  air  of  Holland 
agrees  with  him." 

Monk  followed  with  the  greatest  attention  the  rapid, 
heightened,  and  diffusive  conversation  of  the  fisherman*  ia 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  161 

a  language  which  was  not  his  own,  but  which,  as  we  have 
said,  he  spoke  with  great  facility.  The  fisherman,  on  his 
part,  employed  sometimes  a  French  word,  sometimes  an 
English  word,  and  sometimes  a  word  which  appeared  not  to 
belong  to  any  language,  but  was,  in  truth,  pure  Gascon. 
Fortunately,  his  eyes  spoke  for  him,  and  that  so  eloquently 
that  it  was  possible  to  lose  a  word  from  his  mouth,  but  not 
a  single  intention  from  his  eyes.  The  general  appeared 
more  and  more  satisfied  with  his  examination. 

"You  must  have  heard  that  this  ex-king,  as  you  call  him, 
was  going  to  the  Hague  for  some  purpose?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  fisherman,  "I  heard  that." 

"And  what  was  his  purpose?" 

"Always  the  same,"  said  the  fisherman.  "Must  he  not 
always  entertain  the  fixed  idea  of  returning  to  England?" 

"That  is  true,"  said  Monk  pensively. 

"Without  reckoning,"  added  the  fisherman,  "that  the 
stadtholder — you  know,  my  lord,  William  II. " 

"Well?" 

"He  will  assist  him  with  all  his  power." 

"Ah!  did  you  hear  that  said?" 

"No,  but  I  think  so." 

"You  are  quite  a  politician,  apparently,"  said  Monk. 

"Why,  we  sailors,  my  lord,  who  are  accustomed  to  study 
the  water  and  the  air — that  is  to  say,  the  two  most  mobile 
things  in  the  world — are  seldom  deceived  as  to  the  rest." 

"Now,  then,"  said  Monk,  changing  the  conversation,  "I 
am  told  you  are  going  to  provision  us." 

"I  will  do  my  best,  my  lord." 

"How  much  do  you  ask  for  your  fish,  in  the  first  place9" 

"Not  such  a  fool  as  to  name  a  price,  my  lord." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  my  fish  is  yours." 

"By  what  right?" 

"By  that  of  the  strongest." 

"But  my  intention  is  to  pay  you  for  it." 

"That  is  very  generous  of  you,  my  lord." 

"Is  it  worth " 

"My  lord,  I  fix  no  price." 

"What  do  you  ask,  then?" 

"I  only  ask  to  be  permitted  to  go  away." 

"Where? — to  General  Lambert's  camp?" 

"I!"  cried  the  fisherman;  "what  should  I  go  to  New- 
castle for,  now  I  have  no  longer  any  fish?" 

"At  all  events,  listen  to  me." 


162  THE    VTCOMTE    DE    BRAfiELONNE. 

"I  do,  my  lord." 

"I  will  give  you  counsel." 

"How,  my  lord? — pay  me  and  give  me  good  counsel  like- 
wise?    You  overwhelm  me,  my  lord." 

Monk  looked  more  earnestly  than  ever  at  the  fisherman, 
of  whom  he  still  appeared  to  entertain  some  suspicion. 

"Yes,  I  will  pay  you,  and  give  you  a  piece  of  advice;  for 
the  two  things  are  connected.  If  you  return,  then,  to 
General  Lambert " 

The  fisherman  made  a  movement  of  his  head  and  shoul- 
ders, which  signified,  "If  he  persist  in  it,  I  won't  contradict 
him." 

"Do  not  cross  the  marsh,"  continued  Monk;  "you  will 
have  money  in  your  pocket,  and  there  are  in  the  marsh  some 
Scotch  ambuscaders  I  have  placed  there.  Those  people  are 
very  intractable;  they  understand  but  very  little  of  the 
language  which  you  speak,  although  it  appears  to  me  to  be 
composed  of  three  languages.  They  might  take  from  you 
what  I  had  given  you,  and  on  your  return  to  your  country 
you  would. not  fail  to  say  that  General  Monk  has  two  hands, 
the  one  Scotch,  and  the  other  English;  and  that  he  takes 
back  with  the  Scotch  hand  what  he  had  given  with  the 
English  hand." 

"Oh,  general,  I  will  go  where  you  like,  be  sure  of  that," 
said  the  fisherman,  with  a  fear  too  expressive  not  to  be  ex- 
aggerated. "I  only  wish  to  remain  here,  if  you  will  allow 
me  to  remain." 

"I  readily  believe  you,"  said  Monk,  with  an  impercepti- 
ble smile,  "but  I  cannot,  nevertheless,  keep  you  in  my 
tent." 

"I  have  no  such  wish,  my  lord,  and  desire  only  that  your 
lordship  should  point  out  where  you  will  have  me  posted. 
Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  us — with  us  a  night  soon 
passes  away." 

"You  shall  be  conducted  to  your  bark." 

"As  your  lordship  pleases.  Only,  if  your  lordship  would 
allow  me  to  be  taken  back  by  a  carpenter,  I  should  be  ex- 
treme! v  grateful." 

"Why  so?" 

"Because  the  gentlemen  of  your  army,  in  dragging  my 
boat  up  the  river  with  a  cable  pulled  by  their  horses,  have 
battered  it  a  little  upon  the  rocks  of  the  shore,  so  that  I 
have  as  least  two  feet  of  water  in  my  hold,  my  lord.'-" 

"The  greater  reason  why  you  should  watch  )'our  bout,  I 
think." 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  103 

"My  lord,  I  am  quite  at  your  orders,"  said  the  fisher- 
man. "I  will  empty  my  baskets  where  you  wish;  then  you 
will  pay  me,  if  you  please  to  do  so;  and  you  will  send  me 
away,  if  it  appears  right  to  you.  You  see,  I  am  very  easily 
managed  and  pleased,  my  lord." 

"Come,  come,  you  are  a  very  good  sort  of  a  fellow,"  said 
Monk,  whose  scrutinizing  glance  had  not  been  able  to  find 
a  single  shade  in  the  limpid  eye  of  the  fisherman.  "Halloo, 
Digby!"  An  aid-de-camp  appeared.  "You  will  conduct 
this  good  fellow  and  his  companions  to  the  little  tents  of 
the  canteens,  in  front  of  the  marshes,  so  that  they  will  be 
near  their  bark,  and  yet  will  not  sleep  on  board  to-night. 
"What  is  the  matter,  Spithead?" 

Spithead  was  the  sergeant  from  whom  Monk  had  bor- 
rowed a  piece  of  tobacco  for  his  supper.  Spithead,  having 
entered  the  general's  tent  without  being  sent  for,  had 
drawn  this  question  from  Monk. 

"My  lord,"  said  he,  "a  French  gentleman  has  just  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  outposts,  and  asks  to  speak  to  your 
honor." 

All  this  was  said,  be  it  understood,  in  English;  but,  not- 
withstanding, it  produced  a  slight  emotion  on  the  fisher- 
man, which  Monk,  occupied  with  his  sergeant,  did  not 
remark. 

"Who  is  the  gentleman?"  asked  Monk. 

"My  lord,"  replied  Spithead,  "he  told  it  me;  but  those 
devils  of  French  names  are  so  difficult  to  be  pronounced  by 
a  Scotch  throat,  that  I  could  not  retain  it.  I  believe,  how- 
ever, from  what  the  guards  say,  that  it  is  the  same  gentle- 
man who  presented  himself  yesterday  at  the  halt,  and  whom 
your  honor  would  not  receive." 

"That  is  true;  I  was  holding  a  council  of  officers." 

"Will  your  honor  give  any  orders  respecting  this  gentle- 
man?" 

"Yes;  let  him  be  brought  here." 

"Must  we  take  any  precautions?" 

"Such  as  what?" 

"Binding  his  eyes,  for  instance?" 

"To  what  purpose?  He  can  only  see  what  I  desire 
should  be  seen;  that  is  to  say,  that  I  have  around  me  eleven 
thousand  brave  men,  who  ask  no  better  than  to  have  their 
throats  cut  in  honor  of  the  Parliament  of  Scotland  and 
England." 

"And  this  man,  my  lord?"  said  Spithead,  pointing  to 
the  fisherman,  who,  during;  this  conversation,  had  remained 


164  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOtfNE. 

standing  and  motionless,  like  a  man  who  sees  but  does  not 
understand. 

"Ah,  that  is  true,"  said  Monk.  Then  turning  toward 
the  fisherman;  "I  shall  see  you  again,  my  brave  fellow," 
said  he;  "I  have  chosen  you  a  lodging.  Digby,  take  him 
to  it.  Fear  nothing;  your  money  shall  be  sent  to  you 
presently." 

"Thank  you,  my  lord,"  said  the  fisherman;  and  after 
having  bowed,  he  left  the  tent,  accompanied  by  Digby. 
Before  he  had  gone  a  hundred  paces  he  found  his  compan- 
ions, who  were  whispering  with  a  volubility  which  did  not 
appear  exempt  from  inquietude;  but  he  made  them  a  sign 
which  seemed  to  reassure  them.  "Hola!  you  fellows!"  said 
the  patron,  "come  this  way.  His  lordship,  General  Monk, 
has  the  generosity  to  pay  us  for  our  fish,  and  the  goodness 
to  give  us  hospitality  for  to-night." 

The  fishermen  gathered  round  their  leader,  and,  con- 
ducted by  Digby,  the  little  troop  proceeded  toward  the 
canteen,  the  post,  as  may  be  remembered,  which  had  been 
assigned  them.  As  they  went  along  in  the  dark,  the  fisher- 
men passed  close  to  the  guards  who  were  conducting  the 
French  gentleman  to  General  Monk.  This  gentleman  was 
on  horseback  and  enveloped  in  a  large  cloak,  wlrch  pre- 
vented the  patron  from  seeing  him,  however  great  his  curios- 
ity might  be.  As  to  the  gentleman,  ignorant  that  he  was 
elbowing  compatriots,  he  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  the 
little  troop. 

The  aid-de-camp  installed  his  guests  in  a  tolerably  com- 
fortable tent,  from  which  was  dislodged  an  Irish  canteen 
woman,  who  went,  with  her  six  children,  to  sleep  where  she 
could.  A  large  fire  was  burning  in  front  of  this  tent,  and 
threw  its  purple  light  over  the  grassy  pools  of  the  marsh, 
rippled  by  a  fresh  breeze.  The  installation  made,  the  aid- 
de-camp  wished  the  fishermen  good-night,  calling  to  their 
notice  that  they  might  see  from  the  door  of  the  tent  the 
masts  of  their  bark,  which  was  tossing  gently  on  the  Tweed, 
a  proof  that  it  had  not  yet  sunk.  The  sight  of  this  ap- 
peared to  delight  the  leader  of  the  fishermen  infinitely. 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELOiNHSTE.  165 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE  .  TREASURE. 

The  French  gentleman  whom  Spithead  had  announced 
to  Monk,  and  who  had  passed,  so  closely  wrapped  in  his 
cloak,  by  the  fisherman  who  left  the  general's  tent  five 
minutes  before  he  entered  it — the  French  gentleman  passed 
through  the  various  posts  without  even  casting  his  eyes 
around  him,  for  fear  of  appearing  indiscreet.  As  the  order 
had  been  given,  he  was  conducted  to  the  tent  of  the  gen- 
eral. The  gentleman  was  left  alone  in  the  sort  of  ante- 
chamber in  front  of  the  principal  body  of  the  tent,  where 
he  awaited  Monk,  who  only  delayed  till  he  had  heard  the 
report  of  his  people,  and  observed  through  the  opening  of 
the  canvas  the  countenance  of  the  person  who  solicited  an 
audience.  Without  doubt,  the  report  of  those  who  had 
accompanied  the  French  gentleman  established  the  discre- 
tion with  which  he  was  conducted;  for  the  first  impression 
the  stranger  received  of  the  welcome  made  him  by  the  gen- 
eral was  more  favorable  than  he  could  have  expected  at  such 
a  moment,  and  on  the  part  of  so  suspicious  a  man.  Never- 
theless, according  to  his  custom,  when  Monk  found  himself 
in  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  he  fixed  upon  him  his  pene- 
trating eyes,  which  scrutiny  the  stranger,  on  his  part,  sus- 
tained without  embarrassment  or  notice.  At  the  end  of  a 
few  seconds,  the  general  made  a  gesture  with  his  hand  and 
head  in  sign  of  attention. 

"My  lord,"  said  the  gentleman,  in  excellent  English,  "I 
have  requested  an  interview  with  your  honor,  for  an  affair 
of  importance." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  Monk,  in  French,  "you  speak  our 
language  well  for  a  son  of  the  Continent.  I  ask  your  par- 
don— for  doubtless  the  question  is  indiscreet — do  you  speak 
French  with  the  same  purity?" 

"There  is  nothing  surprising,  my  lord,  in  my  speaking 
English  tolerably;  I  resided  for  some  time  in  England  in 
my  youth,  and  since  that  I  have  made  two  voyages  to  this 
country."  These  words  were  spoken  in  French,  and  with 
a  purity  of  accent  that  bespoke  not  only  a  Frenchman,  but 
a  Frenchman  from  the  environs  of  Tours. 

"And  what  part  of  England  have  you  resided  in,  mon- 
sieur?" 

"In  my  youth;,  London,  my  lord;  then,  about  1635,  I 


166  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONISTE. 

made  a  pleasure  trip  to  Scotland;  and  lastly,  in  1648,  I 
lived  for  some  time  at  Newcastle,  particularly  in  the  con- 
vent, the  gardens  of  which  are  now  occupied  by  your  army." 

"Excuse  me,  monsieur;  but  you  must  comprehend  that 
these  questions  are  necessary  on  my  part,  do  you  not!-'" 

"It  would  astonish  me,  my  lord,  if  they  were  not  made.'' 

"Now,  then,  monsieur,  what  can  I  do  to  serve  you? 
What  do  you  wish?" 

"This,  my  lord — but,  in  the  first  place,  are  we  alone?" 

"Perfectly  so,  monsieur,  except,  of  course,  the  post 
which  guards  us."  So  saying,  Monk  pulled  open  the  can- 
vas with  his  hand,  and  pointed  to  the  soldier  placed  at  ten 
paces  at  most  from  the  tent,  and  who,  at  the  first  call,  could 
have  rendered  assistance  in  a  second. 

"In  that  case,  my  lord,"  said  the  gentleman,  in  as  calm  a 
tone  as  if  he  had  been  for  a  length  of  time  in  habits  of  in- 
timacy with  his  interlocutor,  "I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
address  myself  to  you,  because  I  believe  you  to  be  an  honest 
man.  Indeed,  the  communication  I  am  about  to  make  to 
you  will  prove  to  you  the  esteem  in  which  I  hold  you." 

Monk,  astonished  at  this  language,  which  established  be- 
tween him  and  the  French  gentleman  equality  at  least, 
raised  his  piercing  eye  to  the  stranger's  face,  and  with  a 
sensible  irony  conveyed  by  the  inflection  of  his  voice  alone, 
for  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved — "I  thank  you,  mon- 
sieur," said  he;  "but,  in  the  first  place,  whom  have  I  the 
honor  of  speaking  to?" 

"I  sent  you  my  name  by  your  sergeant,  my  lord." 

"Excuse  him,  monsieur,  he  is  a  Scotchman,  he  could  not 
retain  it." 

"I  am  called  the  Comte  de  la  Fere,  monsieur,"  said 
Athos,  bowing. 

"The  Comte  de  la  Fere?"  said  Monk,  endeavoring  to 
recollect  the  name.  "Pardon  me,  monsieur,  but  this  ap- 
pears to  be  the  first  time  I  have  ever  heard  that  name.  Do 
you  fill  any  post  at  the  court  of  France?" 

"None;  I  am  a  simple  gentleman." 

"What  dignity?" 

"King  Charles  I.  made  me  a  Knight  of  the  Garter,  and 
Queen  Anne  of  Austria  has  given  me  the  cordon  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.     These  are  my  only  dignities." 

"The  Garter!  the  Holy  Ghost!  Are  you  a  knight  of 
those  two  orders,  monsieur?" 

"Yes." 

"And  on  what  occasions  have  such  favors  been  bestowed 
upon  you?" 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELOXNE.  16? 

"For  services  rendered  to  their  majesties." 

Monk  looked  with,  astonishment  at  this  man,  who  ap- 
peared to  him  so  simple  and  so  .great  at  the  same  time. 
Then,  as  if  he  had  renounced  endeavoring  to  penetrate 
this  mystery  of  a  simplicity  and  grandeur  upon  which  the 
stranger  did  not  seem  disposed  to  give  him  any  other  infor- 
mation than  that  which  he  had  already  received,  "Did  you 
present  yourself  yesterday  at  our  advanced  posts?" 

"And  was  sent  back?    Yes,  my  lord." 

"Many  officers,  monsieur,  would  not  permit  anybody  to 
enter  their  camp,  particularly  on  the  eve  of  a  probable  bat- 
tle. But  I  differ  from  my  colleagues,  and  like  to  leave 
nothing  behind  me.  Every  advice  is  good  tome;  all  danger 
is  sent  to  me  by  God,  and  I  weigh  it  in  my  hand  with  the 
energy  He  has  given  me.  So,  yesterday,  you  were  only  sent 
back  on  account  of  the  council  I  was  holding.  To-day  I 
am  at  liberty — speak." 

"My  lord,  you  have  done  so  much  the  better  in  receiving 
me,  from  that  which  I  have  to  say  having  nothing  to  do 
with  the  battle  you  are  about  to  fight  with  General  Lam- 
bert, or  with  your  camp;  and  the  proof  is,  that  I  turned 
away  my  head  that  I  might  not  see  your  men,  and  closed 
my  eyes  that  I  might  not  count  your  tents.  No,  I  come  to 
speak  to  you,  my  lord,  on  my  own  account." 

"Speak  then,. monsieur,"  said  Monk. 

"Just  now,"  continued  Athos,  "I  had  the  honor  of  tell- 
ing your  lordship  that  I  for  a  long  time  lived  in  Newcastle; 
it  was  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.,  when  the  king  was  given 
up  to  Cromwell  by  the  Scots." 

"I  know,"  said  Monk  coldly. 

"I  had  at  that  time  a  large  sum  in  gold,  and  on  the  eve 
of  the  battle,  from  a  presentiment,  perhaps,  of  the  turn 
which  things  would  take  on  the  morrow,  I  concealed  it  in 
the  principal  vault  of  the  convent  at  Newcastle,  in  the 
tower  of  which  you  may  see  from  hence  the  summit  silvered 
by  the  moon.  My  treasure  has  then  remained  interred 
there,  and  I  am  come  to  entreat  your  honor  to  permit  me 
to  withdraw  it  before,  perhaps,  the  battle  turning  that  way, 
a  mine  or  some  other  war  engine  may  destroy  the  building 
and  scatter  my  gold,  or  render  it  so  apparent  that  the 
soldiers  will  take  possession  of  it." 

Monk  was  well  acquainted  with  mankind;  he  saw  in  the 
physiognomy  of  this  gentleman  all  the  energy,  all  the 
reason,  all  the  circumspection  possible;  he  could  therefore 
only  attribute  to  a  magnanimous  confidence  the  revelation 


168  THE   VICOMTE   DE   ERAGELONNE. 

the  Frenchman  had  made  him,  and  he  showed  himself  pro- 
foundly touched  by  it. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "you  have  augured  justly  by  me. 
But  is  the  sum  worth  the  trouble  to  which  you  expose  your- 
self? Do  you  even  believe  that  it  can  be  in  the  place  where 
you  left  it?" 

"It  is  there,  monsieur,  I  do  not  doubt." 

"That  is  a  reply  to  one  question;  but  to  the  other.  I 
dsked  you  if  the  sum  were  so  large  as  to  lead  you  to  expose 
yourself  thus." 

"It  is  really  large;  yes,  my  lord,  for  it  is  a  million  I  in- 
closed in  two  barrels." 

"A  million!"  cried  Monk,  whom  this  time,  in  his  turn, 
Athos  looked  at  earnestly  and  long.  Monk  perceived  this, 
and  his  mistrust  returned. 

"Here  is  a  man,"  said  he,  "who  is  laying  a  snare  for  me. 
So  you  wish  to  withdraw  this  money,  monsieur,"  replied 
he,  "as  I  understand?" 

"If  you  please,  my  lord." 

"To-day?" 

"This  very  evening,  and  that  on  account  of  the  circum- 
stances I  have  named." 

"But,  monsieur,"  objected  Monk,  "General  Lambert  is 
as  near  the  abbey  where  you  have  to  act  as  I  am.  Why, 
then,  have  you  not  addressed  yourself  to  him?" 

"Because,  my  lord,  when  one  acts  in  important  matters, 
it  is  best  to  consult  one's  instinct  before  everything.  Well, 
General  Lambert  does  not  inspire  me  with  so  much  confi- 
dence as  you  do." 

"Be  it  so,  monsieur.  I  will  assist  you  in  recovering  your 
money,  if,  however,  it  can  still  be  there;  for  that  is  far 
from  likely.  Since  1648  twelve  years  have  rolled  away, 
and  many  events  have  taken  place."  Monk  dwelt  upon 
this  point,  to  see  if  the  French  gentleman  would  seize  the 
evasions  that  were  open  to  him,  but  Athos  did  not  lift  his 
brow  once. 

"I  assure  you,  my  lord,"  he  said  firmly,  "that  my  con- 
viction is,  that  the  two  barrels  have  neither  changed  place 
nor  master."  This  reply  had  removed  one  suspicion  from 
the  mind  of  Monk,  but  it  had  suggested  another.  Without 
doubt  this  Frenchman  was  some  emissary  sent  to  entice  into 
error  the  protector  of  the  parliament;  the  gold  was  nothing 
but  a  lure;  and  by  the  help  of  this  lure  they  thought  to 
excite  the  cupidity  of  the  general.  This  gold  might  not 
exist.     It  was  Monk's  business,  then,  to  seize  in  the  act  of 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONHE.  1G9 

falsehood  and  trick,  the  French  gentleman,  and  to  draw 
from  the  false  step  itself  in  which  his  enemies  wished  to 
entrap  him  a  triumph  for  his  renown.  AVhen  Monk  was 
determined  how  to  act — 

"Monsieur,"  said  he  to  Athos,  "without  doubt  you  will 
do  me  the  houor  to  share  my  supper  this  evening?" 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  replied  Athos,  bowing;  "for  you  do  me 
an  honor  of  which  I  feel  myself  worthy,  by  the  inclination 
which  drew  me  toward  you." 

It  is  so  much  the  more  gracious  on  your  part  to  accept 
my  invitation  which  such  frankness,  from  my  cooks  being 
but  few  and  inexpert,  and  from  my  providers  having  re- 
turned this  evening  empty-handed;  so  that  if  it  had  not 
been  for  a  fisherman  of  your  nation  who  strayed  into  our 
camp,  General  Monk  would  have  gone  to  bed  without  his 
supper  to-day.  I  have  then  some  fresh  fish  to  offer  you,  as 
the  vender  assures  me." 

"My  lord,  it  is  principally  for  the  sake  of  having  the 
honor  to  pass  an  hour  more  with  you." 

After  this  exchange  of  civilities,  during  which  Monk  had 
lost  nothing  of  his  circumspection,  the  supper,  or  that 
which  was  to  serve  for  one,  had  been  laid  upon  a  deal  table. 
Monk  made  a  sign  to  the  Comte  de  la  Fere  to  be  seated  at 
this  table,  and  took  his  place  opposite  to  him.  A  single 
dish  filled  with  boiled  fish,  set  before  the  two  illustrious 
guests,  promised  more  to  hungry  stomachs  than  to  delicate 
palates.  While  supping,  that  is,  while  eating  the  fish, 
washed  down  with  bad  ale,  Monk  got  Athos  to  recount  to 
him  the  last  events  of  the  Fronde,  the  reconciliation  of  M. 
de  Conde  Avith  the  king,  and  the  probable  marriage  of  the 
king  with  the  infanta  of  Spain;  thus  he  avoided,  as  Athos 
himself  avoided  it,  all  allusion  to  the  political  interests 
which  united,  or  rather  which  disunited  at  this  time,  Eng- 
land, France,  and  Holland.  Monk,  in  this  conversation, 
convinced  himself  of  one  thing,  which  he  must  have  re- 
marked at  the  first  words  exchanged:  that  was,  that  he  had 
to  do  with  a  man  of  high  distinction.  He  could  not  be  an 
assassin,  and  it  was  repugnant  to  Monk  to  believe  him  to 
be  a  spy;  but  there  were  sufficient  finesse,  and  at  the  same 
time  firmness,  in  Athos  to  lead  Monk  to  fancy  he  was  a  con- 
spirator. When  they  had  quitted  table,  "You  still  believe 
in  your  treasure,  then,  monsieur?"  asked  Monk. 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"Seriously?" 

"Quite  seriously." 


170  THE   VIPOMTE    DE   BFAGELONKE. 

"And  you  think  you  can  find  the  place  again  where  it 
was  buried?" 

"At  the  first  inspection." 

"Well,  monsieur,  from  curiosity  I  will  accompany  you. 
And  it  is  so  much  the  more  necessary  that  I  should  accom- 
pany you,' that  you  would  rind  great  difficulties  in  passing 
through  the  camp  without  me  or  one  of  my  lieutenants.^' 

"General,  I  would  not  suffer  you  to  inconvenience  your- 
self if  I  did  not,  in  fact,  stand  in  need  of  your  company; 
but,  as  I  recognize  that  this  company  is  not  only  honorable, 
but  necessary,  I  accept  it." 

"Do  you  desire  we  should  take  any  people  with  us?" 
asked  Monk. 

"General,  I  believe  that  would  be  useless,  if  you  yourself 
do  not  see  the  necessity  for  it.  Two  men  and  a  horse  will 
suffice  to  transport  the  two  casks  onboard  the  felucca  which 
brought  me  hither." 

"But  it  will  be  necessary  to  pick,  dig,  and  remove  the 
earth,  and  split  stones;  you  don't  reckon  upon  doing  this 
work  yourself,  monsieur,  do  you?" 

"General,  there  is  no  picking  or  digging  required.  The 
treasure  is  buried  in  the  sepulchral  vault  of  the  convent, 
under  a  stone  in  which  is  fixed  a  large  iron  ring,  and  under 
that  a  little  stair  of  four  steps  opens.  The  two  casks  are 
there,  placed  end  to  end,  covered  with  a  coat  of  plaster  in 
the  form  of  a  bier.  There  is  besides  an  inscription,  which 
will  enable  me  to  recognize  the  stone;  and  as  I  am  not  will- 
ing, in  an  affair  of  delicacy  and  confidence,  to  keep  the 
secret  from  your  honor,  here  is  the  inscription:  'Hie  jacet 
venerabilis,  Petrus  Gulielmus  Scott,  Canon  Honorab.  Con* 
ventiis  Novi  Castelli.  Obiit  quarta  et  decima  Feb.  ana- 
Dom.  mccviii.     Requiescat  in  pace.'  " 

Monk  did  not  lose  a  single  word.  He  was  astonished 
either  at  the  marvelous  duplicity  of  this  man,  and  the 
superior  style  in  which  he  played  his  part,  or  at  the  good 
loyal  faith  with  which  he  presented  his  request,  in  a  situa- 
tion in  which  was  concerned  a  million  of  money,  risked 
against  the  stab  of  a  poniard,  amid  an  army  that  would 
have  considered  the  theft  as  a  restitution.  "That  is  well." 
said  he;  "I  will  accompany  you;  and  the  adventure  appeals 
to  me  so  wonderful,  that  I  will  carry  the  flambeau  myself." 
And  saying  these  words,  he  girded  on  a  short  sword,  placed  a 
pistol  in  his  belt,  disclosing  in  this  movement,  which  opened 
his  pourpoint  a  little,  the  fine  rings  of  a  coat  of  mail, 
destined  to  screen  him  from  the  first   poniard  stroke  of  an 


*  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  171 

assassin.  After  which  he  took  a  Scotch  dirk  in  his  left 
hand,  and  then  turning  to  Athos,  "Are  you  ready,  mon- 
sieur?" said  he. 

"lam." 

Athos,  as  if  in  opposition  to  what  Monk  had  done,  un- 
fastened his  poniard,  which  he  placed  upon  the  table;  un- 
hooked his  sword-belt,  which  he  laid  close  to  his  poniard; 
and  without  affectation  opening  his  pourpoint,  as  if  to  seek 
nis  handkerchief,  showed  beneath  his  fine  cambric  shirt  his 
naked  breast,  without  arms,  either  offensive  or  defensive. 

"This  is  truly  a  singular  man,"  said  Monk;  "he  is  with- 
out any  arms;  he  has  an  ambuscade  placed  somewhere 
yonder." 

"General,"  said  he,  as  if  he  had  divined  Monk's  thought, 
"you  wish  we  should  be  alone;  that  is  very  right;  but  a 
great  captain  ought  never  to  expose  himself  with  temerity. 
It  is  night,  the  passage  of  the  marsh  may  present  dangers; 
be  accompanied." 

"You  are  right,"  replied  he,  calling  Digby.  The  aid-de- 
camp appeared.  "Fifty  men,  with  swords  and  muskets," 
said  he,  looking  at- Athos. 

"That  is  too  few  if  there  is  danger,  too  many  if  there  is 
not." 

"I  will  go  alone,"  said  Monk;  "I  want  nobody.  Come 
monsieur." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   MARCH. 

Athos  and  Monk  traversed,  in  going  from  the  camp 
toward  the  Tweed,  that  part  of  the  ground  which  Digby 
had  traversed  with  the  fishermen  coming  from  Tweed  to 
the  camp.  The  aspect  of  this  place,  the  aspect  of  the 
changes  man  had  wrought  in  it,  was  of  a  nature  to  produce 
a  great  effect  upon  a  lively  and  delicate  imagination  like 
that  of  Athos.  Athos  looked  at  nothing  but  these  desolate 
spots;  Monk  looked  at^iothing  but  Athos — at  Athos,  who, 
with  his  eyes  sometimes  directed  toward  heaven,  and  some- 
times toward  the  earth,  sought,  thought,  and  sighed. 
Digby*'' whom  the  last  orders  of  the  general,  and  particularly 
the  accent  with  which  he  had  given  them,  had  at  first  a 
little  excited,  Digby  followed  the  night-walkers  about 
twenty  paces,  but  the  general  having  turned  round  as  il  as* 


172  THE   YICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

tonished  to  find  his  orders  had  not  been  obeyed,  the  aid-de- 
camp perceived  his  indiscretion,  and  returned  to  his  tent. 
He  supposed  that  the  general  wished  to  make,  incognito, 
one  of  those  reviews  of  vigilance  which  every  experienced 
captain  never  fails  to  make  on  the  eve  of  a  decisive  engage- 
ment; he  explained  to  himself  the  presence  of  Athos  in  this 
case  as  an  inferior  explains  all  that  is  mysterious  on  the 
part  of  his  leader.  Athos  might  be,  and,  indeed,  in  the 
eyes  of  Digby,  must  be,  a  spy,  whose  information  was  to 
enlighten  the  general. 

At  the  end  of  a  walk  of  about  ten  minutes  among  the 
tents  and  posts,  which  were  closer  together  near  the  head- 
quarters, Monk  entered  upon  a  little  causeway  which 
diverged  into  three  branches.  That  on  the  left  led  to  the 
river,  that  in  the  middle  to  Newcastle  Abbey  on  the  marsh, 
that  on  the  right  crossed  the  first  lines  of  Monk's  camp;  that 
is  to  say,  the  lines  nearest  to  Lambert's  army.  Beyond  the 
river  was  an  advanced  post,  belonging  to  Monk's  army, 
which  watched  the  enemy;  it  was  composed  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  Scots.  They  had  swum  across  the  Tweed,  and,  in 
case  of  attack,  were  to  recross  it  in  the  same  manner,  giv- 
ing the  alarm;  but  as  there  was  no  post  at  that  spot,  and  as 
Lambert's  soldiers  were  not  so  prompt  at  taking  to  the 
water  as  Monk's  were,  the  latter  appeared  not  to  have  much 
uneasiness  on  that  side.  On  this  side  of  the  river,  at  about 
five  hundred  paces  from  the  old  abbey,  the  fishermen  had 
taken  up  their  abode  amid  a  crowd  of  small  tents  raised  by 
the  sohiiers  of  the  neighboring  clans,  who  had  with  them 
their  wives  and  children.  All  this  confusion,  seen  by  the 
moon's  light,  presented  a  striking  coup  d'ceil;  the  half 
shade  enlarged  every  detail,  and  the  light,  that  flatterer 
which  only  attaches  itself  to  the  polished  side  of  things, 
courted  upon  each  rusty  musket  the  point  still  left  intact, 
and  upon  every  rag  of  canvas  the  whitest  and  least  sullied 
part.  Monk  arrived  then  with  Athos,  crossing  this  spot, 
illumined  with  a  double  light,  the  silver  splendor  of  the 
moon,  and  the  red  blaze  of  the  fires  at  the  meeting  of  the 
three  causeways;  there  he  stopped,  and  addressing  his  com- 
panion: "Monsieur,"  said  he,  "do  you  know  your  road?" 

"General,  if  1  am  not  mistaken,  the  middle  causeway 
leads  straight  to  the  abbey." 

"That  is  right;  but  we  shall  want  lights  to  guide  us  in 
the  vaults."     Monk  turned  round. 

"Ah!  I  thought  Digby  was  following  us!"  said  he.  ''So 
much  the  better;  he  will  procure  us  what  we  want." 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  173 

"Yes,  general,  that  is  a  man  yonder  who  has  for  some 
time  been  walking  behind  us." 

"Digby!"  cried  Monk.  "Digby!  come  here,  if  you 
;,  please." 

But,  instead   of  obeying,  the  shadow  made  a  motion  of 
]  surprise,  and,  retreating  instead  of  advancing,  it  bent  down 
and  disappeared  along  the  jetty  on  the  left,  directing  its 
course  toward  the  lodging  of  the  fishermen. 
"It  appears  not  to  be  Digby,"  said  Monk. 
Both  had  followed  the  shadow  which  had  vanished.     But 
it  was  not  so  rare  a  thing  for  a  man  to  be  wandering  about 
;at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  in  a  camp  in  which  are  reposing 
t  ten  or  eleven  thousand   men,  as  to  give  Monk  and  Athos 
;  any  alarm  at  his  disappearance. 

"As  it  is  so,"  said  Monk,  "and  we  must  have  a  light,  a 
lantern,  a  torch,  or  something  by  which  we  may  see  where 
to  set  our  feet,  let  us  seek  this  light." 

"General,  the  first  soldier 'we  meet  will  light  us." 
"No,"  said  Monk,  in  order  to  discover  if  there  were  not 
any  connivance  between  the    Comte  de    la   Fere  and   the 
fishermen.     "No,    I   should   prefer    one   of  these   French 
soldiers  who  came  this  evening  to  sell  me  their  fish.     They 
will  leave  to-morrow,  and  the  secret  will  be  better  kept  by 
them;  whereas  if  a  report  should  be  spread  in  the  Scotch 
.  army  that  treasures  are  to  be  found  in  the  abbey  of  New- 
castle, my  Highlanders  will  believe  there  is  a  million  con- 
|  cealed  beneath  every  slab  and  they  will  not  leave  a  stone 
upon  a  stone  in  the  building." 

"Do  as  you  think  best,  general,"  replied  Athos,  in  so 
i  natural  a  tone  of  voice  as  made  it  evident  that  soldier  or 
!  fisherman  was  the  same  to  him,  and  that  he  had  no  prefer- 
i  ence. 

Monk  approached  the  causeway  behind  which  had  disap- 
peared the  person  he  had  taken  for  Digby,  and  met  r,  patrol 
who,  making  the  tour  of  the  tents,  was  going  toward  head- 
quarters; he  was  stopped  with  his  companion,  gave  the 
password,  and  went  on.  A  soldier,  roused  by  the  noise, 
unrolled  his  plaid,  and  looked  up  to  see  what  was  going 
forward.  "Ask  him,"  said  Monk  to  Athos,  "where  the 
fishermen  are;  if  I  were  to  speak  to  him,  he  would  know 
me." 

Athos  went  up  to  the  soldier,  who  pointed  out  the  tent 
to  him;  immediately  Monk  and  Athos  turned  toward  it.  It 
appeared  to  the  general  that  at  the  moment  they  came  up, 
a  shadow,  like  to  that  they  had  already  seen,  glided  into 


174  THE  YICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOKNE. 

this  tent;  but,  on  drawing  nearer,  he  perceived  he  must 
have  been  mistaken,  for  all  of  them  were  asleep  pele  mele, 
and  nothing  was  seen  but  arms  and  legs  joined,  crossed, 
and  mixed.  Athos,  fearing  he  should  be  suspected  of  con- 
nivance with  some  of  his  compatriots,  remained  outside  the 
tent. 

"Hola!"  said  Monk,  in  French,  "wake  up  here."  Two 
or  three  of  the  sleepers  got  up.  "I  want  a  man  to  light 
me,"  continued  Monk. 

"Your  honor  may  depend  upon  us,"  said  a  voice  which 
made  Athos  start.     "Where  do  you  wish  us  to  go?" 

"You  shall  see.     Alight!  come  quickly!" 

"Yes,  your  honor.  Does  it  please  your  honor  that  I 
should  accompany  you?" 

"You  or  another,  it  is  of  very  little  consequence,  pro- 
vided I  have  a  light." 

"It  is  strange!"  thought  Athos;  "what  a  singular  voice 
that  man  has!" 

"Some  fire,  you  sirs!"  cried  the  fisherman;  "come,  make 
haste!" 

Then  addressing  in  a  low  voice  his  companion  nearest 
him:  "Get  a  light,  Menneville,"  said  he,  "and  hold  your- 
self ready  for  anything." 

One  of  the  fishermen  struck  light  from  a  stone,  set  fire 
to  some  tinder,  and  by  the  aid  of  a  match  lighted  a  lantern. 
The  light  immediately  spread  all  over  the  tent. 

"Are  you  ready,  monsieur?"  said  Monk  to  Athos,  who 
had  turned  away,  not  to  expose  his  face  to  the  light. 

"YTes,  general,"  replied  he. 

"Ah'  the  French  gentleman!"  said  the  leader  of  the 
fishermen  to  himself.  "Peste!  I  have  a  great  mind  to 
charge  you  with  the  commission,  Menneville;  he  may  know 
me.  Light!  light!"  This  dialogue  was  pronounced  at  the 
back  of  the  tent,  and  in  so  low  a  voice  that  Monk  could  not 
hear  a  syllable  of  it;  he  was,  besides,  talking  with  Athos. 
Menneville  got  himself  ready  in  the  meantime,  or,  rather, 
received  the  orders  of  his  leader. 

"Well?"  said  Monk. 

"I  am  ready,  general,"  said  the  fisherman. 

Monk,  Athos,  and  the  fisherman  left  the  tent. 

"It  is  impossible!"  thought  Athos.  "What  dream  could 
put  that  into  my  head?" 

"Go  forward;  follow  the  middle  causeway,  and  stretch 
out  your  legs,"  said  Monk  to  the  fisherman. 

They  were  not  twenty  paces  on  their  way,  when  the  same 


?HE  VICOMTE  BE  BRAGELOtfKE.  175 

shadow  that  had  appeared  to  enter  the  tent  came  out  of  it 
again,  crawled  along  as  far  as  the  piles,  and,  protected  by 
that  sort  of  parapet  placed  along  the  causeway,  carefully 
observed  the  march  of  the  general.  All  three  disappeared 
in  the  night  haze.  They  were  walking  toward  Newcastle, 
the  white  stones  of  which  appeared  to  them  like  sepulchers. 
After  standing  for  a  few  seconds  under  the  porch,  they 
penetrated  into  the  interior.  The  door  had  been  broken 
open  by  hatchets.  A  post  of  four  men  slept  in  safety  in  a 
corner;  so  certain  were  they  that  the  attack  would  not  take 
place  on  that  side. 

"Will  not  these  men  be  in  your  way?"  said  Monk  to 
Athos. 

"On  the  contrary,  monsieur,  they  will  assist  in  rolling 
out  the  barrels,  if  your  honor  will  permit  them." 

"You  are  right." 

The  post,  however  fast  asleep,  roused  up  at  the  first  steps 
of  the  three  visitors  among  the  briers  and  grass  that  in- 
vaded the  porch.  Monk  gave  the  password,  and  penetrated 
into  the  interior  of  the  convent,  preceded  by  the  light.  He 
walked  last,  watching  even  the  least  movement  of  Athos, 
his  naked  dirk  in  his  sleeve,  and  ready  to  plunge  it  into 
the  veins  of  the  gentleman  at  the  first  suspicious  gesture  he 
should  see  him  make.  But  Athos,  with  a  firm  and  sure 
step,  traversed  the  chambers  and  courts.  Not  a  door,  not 
a  window  was  left  in  this  building.  The  doors  had  been 
burned,  some  upon  the  spot,  and  the  charcoal  of  them  was 
still  jagged  with  the  action  of  the  fire,  which  had  gone  out 
of  itself,  powerless,  no  doubt,  to  get  to  the  heart  of  those 
massive  joints  of  oak  fastened  together  by  iron  nails.  As 
to  the  windows,  all  the  panes  having  been  broken,  birds  of 
darkness,  alarmed  by  the  torch,  flew  away  through  the 
holes  of  them.  At  the  same  time,  gigantic  bats  began  to 
trace  their  vast,  silent  circles  around  the  intruders,  while 
their  shadows  appeared  trembling  upon  the  lofty  stone 
walls  in  the  light  projected  by  the  torch.  Monk  concluded 
there  could  be  no  man  in  the  convent,  since  wild  beasts  and 
birds  were  there  still,  and  fled  away  at  his  approach.  After 
having  passed  the  rubbish,  and  torn  away  more  than  one 
branch  of  ivy  that  had  made  itself  a  guardian  for  the  soli- 
tude, Athos  arrived  at  the  vaults  situated  beneath  the  great 
hall,  but  the  entrance  of  which  was  from  the  chapel 
There  he  stopped.     "Here  we  are,  general,"  said  he. 

"This,  then,  is  the  slab?" 

-''res." 


176  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Ay,  and  here  is  the  ring — but  the  ring  is  sealed  into  the 
stone." 

"We  must  have  a  lever." 

"That's  a  thing  very  easy  to  find." 

While  looking  round  them,  Athos  and  Monk  perceived  a 
little  ash  of  about  three  inches  in  diameter,  which  had  shot 
up  in  an  angle  of  the  wall,  reaching  to  a  window,  which  its 
branches  darkened. 

"Have  you  a  knife?"  said  Monk  to  the  fisherman. 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Cut  down  this  tree,  then." 

The  fisherman  obeyed,  but  not  without  notching  his  cut- 
lass. When  the  ash  was  cut  and  fashioned  into  the  shape 
of  a  lever  the  three  men  penetrated  into  the  vault. 

"Stop  where  you  are,"  said  Monk  to  the  fisherman. 
"We  are  going  to  dig  up  some  powder;  your  light  may  be 
dangerous." 

The  man  drew  back  in  a  sort  of  terror,  and  faithfully 
kept  to  the  post  assigned  him,  while  Monk  and  Athos  turned 
behind  a  column  at  the  foot  of  which,  through  a  spiracle, 
penetrated  a  moonbeam,  reflected  exactly  by  the  stone  of 
which, the  Comte  de  la  Fere  had  come  so  far  in  search. 

"This  is  it,"  said  Athos,  pointing  out  to  the  general  the 
Latin  inscription. 

"Yes,"  said  Monk. 

Then,  as  if  still  willing  to  leave  the  Frenchman  one 
means  of  evasion: 

"Do  you  not  observe  that  this  vault  has  already  been 
broken  into,"  continued  he,  "and  that  several  statues  have 
been  knocked  down?" 

"My  lord,  you  have,  without  doubt,  heard  say  that  the 
religious  respect  of  your  Scots  loves  to  confide  to  the  statues 
of  the  dead  the  valuable  objects  they  have  possessed  during 
their  lives.  Therefore  the  soldiers  had  reason  to  think 
that  under  the  pedestals  of  the  statues  which  ornament 
most  of  these  tombs,  a  treasure  was  hidden.  They  have 
consequently  broken  down  pedestal  and  statue;  but  the 
tomb  of  the  venerable  canon,  with  which  we  have  to  do,  is 
not  distinguished  by  any  monument.  If.  is  simple,  there- 
fore it  has  been  protected  by  the  superstitious  fear  which 
your  puritans  have  always  had  of  sacrilege.  Not  a  morsel 
of  the  masonry  of  this  tomb  has  been  chipped  off," 

"That  is  true,"  said  Monk. 

Athos  seized  the  lever. 

"Shall  I  help  you?"  said  Monk. 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  177 

"Thank  you,  my  lord;  but  I  am  not  willing  your  honor 
should  put  your  hand  to  a  work  of  which,  perhaps,  you 
would  not  take  the  responsibility  if  you  knew  the  probable 
consequences  of  it." 

Monk  raised  his  head. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  monsieur?" 

"I  mean — but  that  man " 

"Stop,"  said  Monk;  "I  perceive  what  you  are  afraid  of. 
I  will  make  a  trial."  Monk  turned  toward  the  fisherman, 
the  whole  of  whose  profile  was  thrown  upon  the  wall. 

"Come  here,  friend,"  said  he  in  English,  and  in  a  tone 
of  command. 

The  fisherman  did  not  stir. 

"That  is  well,"  continued  he;  "he  does  not  know  Eng- 
lish. Speak  to  me,  then,  in  English,  if  you  please,  mon- 
sieur." 

"My  lord,"  replied  Athos,  "I  have  frequently  seen  men  in 
certain  circumstances  have  the  command  over  themselves 
not  to  reply  to  a  question  put  to  them  in  a  language  they 
understood.  The  fisherman  is  perhaps  more  learned  than 
we  believe  him  to  be.  Send  him  away,  my  lord,  I  beg  of 
you."  f 

"Decidedly,"  said  Monk,  "he  wishes  to  have  me  alone  in 
this  vault.  Never  mind,  we  will  go  through  with  it;  one 
man  is  as  good  as  another  man;  and  we  are  alone.  My 
friend,"  said  Monk  to  the  fisherman,  "go  back  up  the  stairs 
we  have  just  descended,  and  watch  that  nobody  comes  to 
disturb  us."  The  fisherman  made  a  sign  of  obedience. 
"Leave  your  torch,"  said  Monk;  "it  would  betray  your 
presence,  and  might  procure  you  a  musket-ball." 

The  fisherman  appeared  to  appreciate  the  counsel;  he 
laid  down  the  light,  and  disappeared  under  the  vault  of  the 
stairs.  Monk  took  up  the  torch,  and  brought  it  to  the  foot 
of  the  column. 

"Ah,  ah!"  said  he;  "the  money,  then,  is  concealed  under 
this  tomb?" 

"Yes,  my  lord;  and  in  five  minutes  you  will  no  longer 
doubt  it." 

At  the  same  time  Athos  struck  a  violent  blow  upon  the 
plaster,  which  split,  presenting  a  chink  for  the  point  of  the 
iever.  Athos  introduced  the  bar  into  this  crack,  and  soon 
large  pieces  of  plaster  yielded,  rising  up  like  rounded  slabs. 
Then  the  Comte  de  la  Fere  seized  the  stones  and  threw 
them  away  with  a  force  that  hands  so  delicate  as  his  might 
nut  have  been,  supposed  capable  of. 


178  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"My  lord,"  said  Athos,  "this  is  plainly  the  masonry  of 
which  I  told  your  honor." 

"Yes;  but  I  do  not  yet  see  the  casks,"  said  Monk. 

"If  I  had  a  poniard,"  6aid  Athos,  looking  round  him, 
"you  should  soon  see  them,  monsieur.  Unfortunately,  I 
left  mine  in  your  tent." 

"I  would  willingly  offer  you  mine,"  said  Monk,  "but  the 
blade  is  too  thin  for  such  work." 

Athos  appeared  to  look  around  him  for  a  thing  of  some 
kind  that  might  serve  as  a  substitute  for  the  arm  he  desired. 
Monk  did  not  lose  one  of  the  movements  of  his  hands,  or 
one  of  the  expressions  of  his  eyes.  "Why  do  you  not  ask 
the  fisherman  for  his  cutlass?"  said  Monk;  "he  has  a  cut- 
lass." 

"Ah!  that  is  true,"  said  Athos;  "for  he  cut  the  tree 
down  with  it."     And  he  advanced  toward  the  stairs. 

"Friend,"  said  he  to  the  fisherman,  "throw  me  down 
your  cutlass  if  you  please;  I  want  it." 

The  noise  of  the  falling  arm  resounded  over  the  marshes. 

"Take  it,"  said  Monk;  "it  is  a  solid  instrument,  as  I 
have  seen,  and  of  which  a  strong  hand  might  make  good 
use." 

Athos  only  appeared  to  give  to  the  words  of  Monk  the 
natural  and  simple  sense  under  which  they  were  to  be  heard 
and  understood.  Nor  did  he  remark,  or  at  least  appear  to 
remark,  that  when  he  returned  with  the  weapon,  Monk 
drew  back,  placing  his  left  hand  on  the  stock  of  his  pistol; 
in  the  right  he  already  held  his  dirk.  He  went  to  work 
then,  turning  his  back  to  Monk,  placing  his  life  in  his 
hands,  without  possible  defense.  He  then  struck,  during 
several  seconds,  so  skillfully  and  sharply  upon  the  inter- 
mediary plaster,  that  it  separated  in  two  parts,  and  Monk 
was  able  to  discern  two  barrels,  placed  end  to  end,  and 
which  their  weight  maintained  motionless  in  their  chalky 
envelope. 

"My  lord,"  said  Athos.  "you  see  that  my  presentiments 
have  not  been  disappointed." 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  said  Monk,  "and  I  have  good  reason 
to  believe  you  are  satisfied,  are  you  not?" 

"Doubtless  I  am;  the  loss  of  this  money  would  have  been 
inexpressibly  great  to  me;  but  I  was  certain  that  God,  who 
protects  the  good  cause,  would  not  have  permitted  this 
gold,  which  should  procure  its  triumph,  to  be  diverted  to 
baser  purposes." 

"You  are,  upon  my  honor,  as  mysterious  in  your  words 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  179 

as  in  your  actions,  monsieur,"  said  Monk.  "Just  now  I 
did  not  perfectly  understand  you  when  you  said  that  you 
were  not  willing  to  throw  upon  me  the  responsibility  of  the 
work  we  were  accomplishing." 

"I  had  reason  to  say  so,  my  lord." 

"And  now  you  speak  to  me  of  the  good  cause.  What  do 
you  mean  by  the  words  'the  good  cause.'  We  are  defend- 
ing at  this  moment,  in  England,  five  or  six  causes,  which 
does  not  prevent  every  one  from  considering  his  own  not 
only  as  the  good  cause,  but  as  the  best.  What  is  yours, 
monsieur?  Speak  boldly,  that  we  may  see  if,  upon  this 
point,  to  which  you  appear  to  attach  a  great  importance, 
we  are  of  the  same  opinion." 
i  Athos  fixed  upon  Monk  one  of  those  penetrating  looks 
which  seem  to  convey  to  him  they  are  directed  to  a  chal- 
lenge to  conceal  a  single  one  of  his  thoughts;  then,  taking 
off  his  hat,  he  uegan  in  a  solemn  voice,  while  his  inter- 
locutor, with  one  hand  upon  his  visage,  allowed  that  long 
and  nervous  nand  to  compress  his  mustache  and  beard,  at 
the  same  time  that  his  vague  and  melancholy  eye  wandered 
about  the  recesses  of  the  vaults. 


CHAPTEK  XXVI. 

HEART  AND  MIND. 

"My  lord,"  said  the  Comte  de  la  Fere,  "you  are  a  noble 
Englishman,  you  are  a  loyal  man;  you  are  speaking  to  a 
noble  Frenchman,  to  a  man  of  heart.  This  gold  contained 
in  these  two  casks  before  us,  I  have  told  you  was  mine.  I 
was  wrong — it  is  the  first  lie  I  have  pronounced  in  my  life, 
a  temporary  lie,  it  is  true.  This  gold  is  the  property  of 
King  Charles  II.,  exiled  from  his  country,  driven  from  his 
palaces,  the  orphan  at  once  of  his  father  and  his  throne, 
and  deprived  of  everything,  even  of  the  melancholy  happi- 
ness of  kissing  on  his  knees  the  stone  upon  which  the  hands 
of  his  murderers  have  written  that  simple  epitaph  which 
will  eternally  cry  out  for  vengeance  upon  them:  'Here  lies 
Charles  I.'  " 

Monk  grew  slightly  pale,  and  an  imperceptible  shudder 
crept  over  his  skin  and  raised  his  gray  mustache. 

"I,"  continued  Athos,  "I,  Comte  de  la  Fere,  the  last, 
the  only  faithful  friend  the  poor  abandoned  prince  has  left, 
I  have  offered  him  to  come  hither  to  find  the  man  upon 


180  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONHE. 

whom  now  depends  the  fate  of  royalty  and  of  England:  and 
I  am  come,  and  have  placed  myself  under  the  eye  of  this 
man,  and  have  placed  myself  naked  and  unarmed  in  his 
hands,  saying:  'My  lord,  here  is  the  last  resource  of  a 
prince  whom  God  made  your  master,  whom  his  birth  made 
your  king;  upon  you,  and  you  alone,  depend  his  life  and  his 
future.  Will  you  employ  this  money  in  consoling  England 
for  the  evils  it  must  have  suffered  from  anarchy;  that  is  to 
say,  will  you  aid,  and  if  not  aid,  will  you  allow  to  act,  King 
Charles  II.?  You  are  master,  you  are  king,  all-powerful 
master  and  king,  for  chance  sometimes  defeats  the  work  of 
time  and  God.  I  am  here  alone  with  you,  my  lord;  if  the 
success  being  divided  alarms  you,  if  my  complicity  annoys 
you,  you  are  armed,  my  lord,  and  here  is  a  grave  ready  dug; 
if,  on  the  contrary,  the  enthusiasm  of  your  cause  carries 
you  away,  if  you  are  what  you  appear  to  be,  if  your  hand  in 
what  it  undertakes  obeys  your  mind,  and  your  mind  your 
heart,  here  are  the  means  of  ruining  forever  the  cause  of 
your  enemy,  Charles  Stuart.  Kill,  then,  the  man  you  have 
before  you,  for  that  man  will  never  return  to  him  who  has 
sent  him  without  bearing  with  him  the  deposit  Avhich 
Charles  I.,  his  father,  confided  to  him,  and  keep  the  gold 
which  may  assist  in  carrying  on  the  civil  war.  Alas!  my 
lord,  it  is  the  fate  of  this  unfortunate  prince.  He  must 
either  corrupt  or  kill,  for  everything  resists  him,  every- 
thing repulses  him,  everything  is  hostile  to  him;  and  yet 
he  is  marked  with  the  divine  seal,  and  he  must,  not  to 
belie  his  blood,  reascend  the  throne,  or  die  upon  the  sacred 
soil  of  his  country. 

"My  lord,  you  have  heard  me.  To  any  other  but  the 
illustrious  man  who  listens  to  me,  I  would  have  said:  'My 
lord,  you  are  poor;  my  lord,  the  king  offers  you  this  million 
as  an  earnest  of  an  immense  bargain;  take  it,  and  serve 
Charles  II.  as  I  served  Charles  I.,  and  I  feel  assured  that 
God,  who  listens  to  us,  who  sees  us,  who  alone  reads  in 
your  heart,  shut  up  from  all  human  eyes — I  am  assured 
God  will  give  you  a  happy  eternal  life  after  a  happy  death.' 
But  to  General  Monk,  to  the  illustrious  man  of  whose 
standard  I  believe  I  have  taken  measure,  I  say:  'My  lord, 
there  is  for  you  in  the  history  of  peoples  and  kings  a  bril- 
liant place,  an  immortal,  imperishable  glory,  if  alone,  with- 
out any  other  interest  but  the  good  of  your  country  and  the 
interests  of  justice,  you  become  the  supporter  of  your  king. 
Many  others  have  been  conquerors  and  glorious  usurpers; 
you,  my  lord,  you  will  be  content  with  being  the  most  vir- 


THE   VICO^TE    DE   BRAGELOXNE.  181 

tuous,  the  most  honest,  and  the  most  incorrupt  of  men; 
you  will  have  held  a  crown  in  your  hand,  and  instead  of 
placing  it  upon  your  own  brow,  you  will  have  deposited  it 
upon  the  head  of  him  for  whom  it  was  made.  Oh,  my 
lord,  act  thus,  and  you  will  leave  to  posterity  the  most  en- 
viable of  names,  in  which  no  human  creature  can  rival 
you.'  " 

Athos  stopped.  During  the  whole  time  that  the  noble 
gentleman  was  speaking,  Monk  had  not  given  one  sign  of 
either  approbation  or  disapprobation;  scarcely  even,  during 
this  vehement  appeal,  had  his  eyes  been  animated  with  that 
fire  which  bespeaks  intelligence.  The  Comte  de  la  Fere 
looked  at  him  sorrowfully,  and  on  seeing  that  melancholy 
countenance,  felt  discouragement  penetrate  to  his  very 
heart.  At  length  Monk  appeared  to  recover,  and  broke  the 
silence. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  in  a  mild,  calm  tone,  "in  reply  to 
you,  I  will  make  use  of  your  own  words.  To  any  other  but 
yourself  I  would  reply  by  expulsion,  imprisonment,  or  still 
worse,  for,  in  fact,  you  tempt  me  and  you  force  me  at  the 
same  time.  But  you  are  one  of  those  men,  monsieur,  to 
whom  it  is  impossible  to  refuse  the  attention  and  respect 
they  merit;  you  are  a  brave  gentleman,  monsieur — I  say  so, 
and  I  am  a  judge.  You  just  now  spoke  of  a  deposit  which 
the  late  king  transmitted  through  you  to  his  son — are  you, 
then,  one  of  those  Frenchmen  who,  as  I  have  heard,  en- 
deavored to  carry  off  Charles  I.  from  Whitehall?" 

"Yes,  my  lord;  it  was  I  who  was  beneath  the  scaffold 
during  the  execution;  I,  who  had  not  been  able  to  redeem 
it,  received  upon  my  brow  the  blood  of  the  martyred  king. 
I  received  at  the  same  time  the  last  word  of  Charles  I.;  it 
was  to  me  he  said,  'Remember!'  and  in  saying,  'Remember!' 
he  made  allusion  to  the  money  at  your  feet,  my  lord." 

"I  have  heard  much  of  you,  monsieur,"  said  Monk,  "but 
I  am  happy  to  have,  in  the  first  place,  appreciated  you  by 
my  own  observations,  and  not  by  my  remembrances.  I  will 
give  you,  then,  explanations  that  I  have  given  to  no  other, 
and  you  will  appreciate  what  a  distinction  I  make  between 
you  and  the  persons  who  have  hitherto  been  sent  to  me." 

Athos  bowed  and  prepared  to  absorb  greedily  the  words 
which  fell,  one  by  one,  from  the  mouth  of  Monk — those 
words  rare  and  precious  as  the  dew  in  the  desert. 

"You  spoke  to  me,"  said  Monk,  "of  Charles  II.;  but 
pray,  monsieur,  of  what  consequence  to  me  is  rhat  pnantom 
of  a  king?    I  have  grown  old  in  a  war  and  in  a  policy  which 


182  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXNE. 

are  nowadays  so  closely  linked  together  that  every  man  of 
tue  sword  must  fight  in  virtue  of  his  rights  or  his  ambition 
with  a  personal  interest,  and  not  blindly  behind  an  officer, 
as  in  ordinary  wars.  For  myself,  I  perhaps  desire  nothing, 
but  I  fear  much.  In  the  war  of  to-day  resides  the  liberty 
of  England,  and,  perhaps,  that  of  every  Englishman.  How 
can  you  expect  that  I,  free  in  the  position  I  have  made  for 
myself,  should  go  willingly  and  hold  out  my  hands  to  the 
shackles  of  a  stranger?  That  is  all  Charles  is  to  me.  He 
has  fought  battles  here  which  he  has  lost,  he  is  therefore  a 
bad  captain;  he  has  succeeded  in  no  negotiation,  he  is 
therefore  a  bad  diplomatist;  he  has  paraded  his  wants  and 
his  miseries  in  all  the  courts  of  Europe,  he  has  therefore  a 
weak  and  pusillanimous  heart.  Nothing  noble,  nothing 
great,  nothing  strong,  has  hitherto  emanated  from  that 
genius  which  aspires  to  govern  one  of  the  greatest  kingdoms 
of  the  earth.  I  know  this  Charles,  then,  under  none  but 
bad  aspects,  and  you  would  wish  me,  a  man  of  good  sense, 
to  go  and  make  myself  gratuitously  the  slave  of  a  creature 
who  is  inferior  to  me  in  military  capacity,  in  politics,  and 
in  dignity!  No,  monsieur.  When  some  great  and  noble 
action  shall  have  taught  me  to  value  Charles,  I  will  perhaps 
recognize  his  rights  to  a  throne  from  which  we  have  cast 
the  father  because  he  wanted  the  virtues  which  his  son  has 
to  this  time  wanted;  but  hitherto,  in  fact  of  rights,  I  only 
recognize  my  own;  the  revolution  made  me  a  general,  my 
sword  will  make  me  protector,  if  I  wish  it.  Let  Charles 
show  himself,  let  him  present  himself,  let  him  pass  through 
the  concurrence  open  to  genius,  and,  above  all,  let  him  re- 
member that  he  is  of  a  race  from  whom  more  will  be  looked 
for  than  from  any  other.  Therefore,  monsieur,  say  no 
more  about  him.  I  neither  refuse  nor  accept;  I  reserve 
myself — I  wait." 

Athos  knew  Monk  to  be  too  well  informed  of  all  concern- 
ing Charles  to  venture  to  urge  the  discussion  further;  it 
was  neither  the  time  nor  the  place.  "My  lord,"  then  said 
he,  "I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  thank  you." 

"And  for  what,  monsieur?  For  your  having  formed  a 
correct  opinion  of  me,  and  for  my  having  acted  according 
to  your  judgment?  Is  that,  in  truth,  worthy  of  thanks? 
This  gold  which  you  are  about  to  carry  to  Charles,  will 
serve  me  as  a  test  for  him,  by  seeing  the  use  he  will  make 
of  it.     I  shall  have  an  opinion  which  now  I  have  not." 

"And  yet  does  not  your  honor  fear  to  compromise  your- 
self by  allowing  such  a  sum  to  be  carried  away  for  the  service 
of  your  enemy?" 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELO^NE.  183 

"My  enemy,  say  you?  Eh,  monsieur,  I  have  no  enemies. 
1  am  in  the  service  of  the  parliament,  which  orders  me  to 
combat  General  Lambert  and  Charles  Stuart — its  enemies, 
and  not  mine.  I  combat  them.  If  the  parliament,  on  the 
contrary,  ordered  me  to  unfurl  my  standards  on  the  port  of 
London,  to  assemble  my  soldiers  on  the  banks  to  receive 
Charles  II. " 

"You  would  obey?"  cried  Athos  joyfully. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Monk,  smiling,  "I  was  going — I,  a 
gray-headed  man — in  truth,  how  did  I  forget  myself?  I 
was  going  to  speak  like  a  foolish  young  man." 

"Then  you  would  not  obey?"  said  Athos. 

"I  do  not  say  that  either,  monsieur.  The  welfare  of  my 
country  before  everything.  God,  who  has  given  me  the 
power,  has,  no  doubt,  willed  that  I  should  have  that  power 
for  the  good  of  all;  and  He  has  given  me,  at  the  same  time, 
discernment.  If  the  parliament  were  to  order  such  a  thing, 
I  should  reflect." 

The  brow  of  Athos  became  clouded.  "Then  I  may  de- 
cidedly say  that  your  honor  is  not  inclined  to  favor  King 
Charles  II.?" 

"You  continue  to  question  me,  Monsieur  le  Comte;  allow 
me,  in  my  turn,  if  you  please." 

"Do,  monsieur;  and  may  God  inspire  you  with  the  idea 
of  replying  to  me  as  frankly  as  I  will  reply  to  you." 

"When  you  shall  have  taken  this  money  back  to  your 
prince,  what  advice  will  you  give  him?" 

Athos  fixed  upon  Monk  a  proud  and  resolute  look.  "My 
lord,"  said  he,  "with  this  million,  which  others  would  per- 
haps employ  in  negotiating,  I  would  advise  the  king  to 
raise  two  regiments,  to  enter  by  Scotland,  which  you  have 
just  pacified;  to  give  to  the  people  the  franchises  which  the 
revolution  promised  them,  and  in  which  it  has  not,  in  all 
cases,  kept  its  word.  I  should  advise  him  to  command  in 
person  this  little  army,  which  would,  believe  me,  increase, 
and  to  die,  standard  in  hand,  and  sword  in  sheath,  saying: 
'Englishmen!  I  am  the  third  king  of  my  race  you  have 
killed;  beware  of  the  justice  of  God!'  " 

Monk  hung  down  his  head,  and  mused  for  an  instant. 
"If  he  succeeded,"  said  he,  "which  is  very  improbable,  but 
not  impossible — for  everything  is  possible  in  this  world — 
what  would  you  advise  him  to  do?" 

"To  think  that  by  the  Avill  of  God  he  lost  his  crown,  but 
by  the  good  will  of  men  he  has  recovered  it." 

An  ironical  smile  passed  over  the  lips  of  Monk.     "Unfor- 


184  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

tunately,  monsieur/"'  said  he,  "kings  do  not  know  how  to 
follow  good  advice.'' 

"Ah,  my  lord,  Charles  II.  is  not  a  king,"  replied  Athos, 
smiling  in  his  turn,  but  with  a  very  different  expression 
than  Monk  had  done. 

"Let  us  terminate  this,  Monsieur  le  Comte — that  is  your 
desire,  is  it  not?" 

Athos  bowed. 

"I  will  give  orders  that  these  two  casks  shall  be  trans- 
ported whither  you  please.  Where  are  you  lodging,  mon- 
sieur?"' 

"In  a  little  bourg,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  your  honor." 

"Oh,  I  know  the  bourg;  it  consists  of  five  or  six  houses, 
does  it  not?" 

"Exactly.  Well,  I  inhabit  the  first — two  net-makers  oc- 
cupy it  with  me;  it  is  their  bark  which  placed  me  on  shore." 

"But  your  own  vessel,  monsieur?" 

"My  vessel  is  at  anchor,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  at  sea,  and 
waits  for  me." 

"You  do  not  think,  however,  of  setting  out  immediately?" 

"My  lord,  I  will  try  once  more  to  convince  your  honor." 

"You  will  not  succeed,"  replied  Monk;  "but  it  is  of  con- 
sequence that  you  should  quit  Newcastle  without  leaving 
on  your  passage  the  least  suspicion  that  might  prove  injuri- 
ous to  me  or  you.  To-morrow  my  officers  think  Lambert 
will  attack  me.  I,  on  the  contrary,  will  be  bound  he  will 
not  stir;  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  impossible.  Lambert  leads 
an  army  devoid  of  homogeneous  principles,  and  there  is  no 
possible  army  with  such  elements.  I  have  taught  my  sol- 
diers to  consider  my  authority  subordinate  to  another, 
which  causes  that  after  me,  around  me  and  beneath  me. 
they  still  look  for  something.  It  would  result,  that  if  I 
were  dead,  whatever  might  happen,  my  army  would  not  be 
demoralized  all  at  once;  it  results,  that  if  I  chose  to  absent 
myself,  for  instance,  as  it  does  please  me  to  do  sometimes, 
there  would  not  be  in  my  camp  the  shadow  of  uneasiness  or 
disorder.  I  am  the  magnet — the  sympathetic  and  natural 
strength  of  the  English.  All  those  scattered  arms  that  will 
be  sent  against  me  I  shall  attract  to  myself.  Lambert,  at 
this  moment,  commands  eighteen  thousand  deserters;  but 
I  have  never  mentioned  that  to  my  officers,  you  may  easily 
suppose.  Nothing  is  more  useful  to  an  army  than  the  ex- 
pectation of  a  coming  battle;  everybody  is  awake — everybody 
is  on  his  guard.  I  tell  you  this  that  you  may  live  in  perfect 
security.     Do  not  be  in  a  hurry,  then,  to  cross  the  seas; 


THE   VIOOMTE   DE  BRAGELCWNE.  185 

within  a  week  there  will  be  something  fresh,  either  a  battle 
or  an  accommodation.  Then,  as  you  have  judged  me  to  be 
an  honorable  man,  and  confided  your  secret  to  me,  I  have 
to  thank  you  for  this  confidence,  and  I  will  come  and  pay 
you  a  visit  or  send  for  you.  Do  not  go  before  I  send  you 
word.     I  repeat  the  request." 

"I  promise  you,  general,"  cried  Athos,  with  a  joy  so 
great,  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  circumspection,  he  could  not 
nrevent  its  sparkling  in  his  eyes. 

Monk  surprised  this  flash,  and  immediately  extinguished 
it  by  one  of  those  mute  smiles  which  always  broke,  between 
these  two  interlocutors,  the  way  which  Athos  believed  he 
had  made  in  his  mind. 

"Then,  my  lord,  it  is  a  week  that  you  desire  me  to  wait?" 

"A  week;  yes,  monsieur." 

"And  during  these  days  what  shall  I  do?" 

"If  there  should  be  a  battle,  keep  at  a  distance  from  it,  I 
conjure  you.  I  know  the  French  delight  in  such  amuse- 
ments; you  might  take  a  fancy  to  see  how  we  fight,  and 
you  might  meet  with  some  chance  shot.  Our  Scotchmen 
are  very  bad  marksmen,  and  I  do  not  wish  that  a  worthy 
gentleman  like  you  should  return  to  France  wounded.  I 
should  not  like  either  to  be  obliged,  myself,  to  send  to  your 
prince  his  million  left  here  by  you;  for  then  it  would  be 
said,  and  with  reason,  that  I  paid  the  Pretender  to  enable 
him  to  make  war  against  the  parliament.  Go,  then,  mon- 
sieur, and  let  it  be  done  as  has  been  agreed  upon." 

"Ah,  my  lord,"  said  Athos,  "what  joy  it  would  give  me 
to  be  the  first  that  penetrated  to  the  noble  heart  which 
beats  beneath  that  cloak!" 

"You  decidedly  think,  then,  that  I  have  secrets,"  said 
Monk,  without  changing  the  half-cheerful  expression  of 
his  countenance.  "Why,  monsieur,  what  secret  can  you 
expect  to  find  in  the  hollow  head  of  a  soldier?  But  it  is 
getting  late,  and  our  torch  is  almost  out;  let  us  call  our 
man." 

"Hola!"  cried  Monk  in  French,  approaching  the  stairs; 
"hola!  fisherman!" 

The  fisherman,  benumbed  by  the  cold  night-air,  replied 
in  a  hoarse  voice,  asking  what  they  wanted  of  him. 

"Go  to  the  post,"  said  Monk,  "and  order  a  sergeant,  in 
the  name  of  General  Monk,  to  come  here  immediately." 

This  was  a  commission  easily  performed;  for  the  sergeant, 
uneasy  at  the  general's  being  in  that  desolate  abbey,  had 
drawn  nearer  by  degrees,  and  was  not  much  further  off 


186  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOtfNE. 

than  the  fisherman.  The  general's  order  was  therefore 
heard  by  him,  and  lie  hastened  to  obey  it. 

"Get  a  horse  and  two  men,"  said  Monk. 

"A  horse  and  two  men?"  repeated  the  sergeant. 

"Yes,"  replied  Monk.  "Have  you  any  means  of  getting 
a  horse  with  a  pack-saddle  or  two  paniers?" 

"No  doubt,  at  a  hundred  paces  off,  in  the  Scotch  camp." 

"Very  well." 

"What  shall  I  do  with  the  horse,  general?" 

"Look  here." 

The  sergeant  descended  the  three  steps  which  separated 
him  from  Monk,  and  came  into  the  vault. 

"You  see,"  said  Monk,  "that  gentleman  yonder?" 

"Yes,  general." 

"And  you  see  these  two  casks?" 

"Perfectly." 

"There  are  two  casks,  one  containing  powder,  and  the 
other  balls;  I  wish  these  casks  to  be  transported  to  the 
little  bourg  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  which  I  reckon 
upon  occupying  to-morrow  with  two  hundred  muskets. 
Yon  understand  that  the  commission  in  a  secret  one,  for  it 
is  a  movement  that  may  decide  the  fate  of  the  battle." 

"Oh,  general!"  murmured  the  sergeant. 

"Mind,  then!  Let  these  casks  be  fastened  on  to  the 
horse,  and  let  them  be  escorted  by  two  men  and  you  to  the 
residence  of  this  gentleman,  who  is  my  friend.  But  take 
care  that  nobody  knows  it." 

"I  would  go  by  the  marsh  if  I  knew  the  road,"  said  the 
sergeant. 

"I  know  one  myself,"  said  Athos;  "it  is  not  wide,  but 
it  is  solid,  having  been  made  upon  piles;  and  with  precau- 
tion we  shall  get  there  safely  enough." 

"Do  everything  this  gentleman  shall  order  you  to  do." 

"Oh!  oh!  the  casks  are  heavy,"  said  the  sergeant,  trying 
to  lift  one. 

"They  weigh  four  hundred  pounds  each,  if  they  contain 
what  they  ought  to  contain,  do  they  not,  monsieur?" 

"Thereabouts,"  said  Athos. 

The  sergeant  went  in  search  of  the  two  men  and  the 
horse.  Monk,  left  alone  with  Athos,  affected  to  speak  to 
him  of  nothing  but  indifferent  things,  while  examining  the 
vault  in  a  cursory  manner.     Then,  hearing  the  horse's  steps: 

"I  leave  you  with  your  men,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "and 
return  to  the  camp.     You  are  perfectly  safe." 

"I  shall  see  you  again,  then,  my  lord?"  asked  Athos. 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  187 

''That  is  agreed  upon,  monsieur,  and  with  much  pleasure. " 

Monk  held  out  his  hand  to  Athos. 

"Ah!  my  lord,  if  you  would!"  murmured  Athos. 

"Hush!  monsieur,  it  is  agreed  that  we  shall  speak  no 
more  of  that."  And  bowing  to  Athos,  he  went  up  the 
stairs,  passing,  about  the  middle  of  them,  his  men  who 
were  coming  down.  He  had  not  gone  twenty  paces,  when 
a  faint  but  prolonged  whistle  was  heard  at  a  distance. 
Monk  listened,  but  seeing  nothing  and  hearing  nothing,  he 
continued  his  route.  Then  he  remembered  the  fisherman, 
and  looked  about  for  him;  but  the  fisherman  had  disap 
peared.  If  he  had,  however,  looked  with  more  attention, 
he  might  have  seen  that  man,  bent  double,  gliding  like  a 
serpent  along  the  stones  and  losing  himself  in  the  mist, 
floating  over  the  surface  of  the  marsh.  He  might  have 
equally  seen,  attempting  to  pierce  that  mist,  a  spectacle 
that  might  have  attracted  his  attention;  and  that  was  the 
rigging  of  the  vessel,  which  had  changed  place,  and  was 
now  nearer  the  shore.  But  Monk  saw  nothing;  and  think- 
ing he  had  nothing  to  fear,  he  entered  the  deserted  cause- 
way which  led  to  his  camp.  It  was  then  that  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  fisherman  appeared  strange,  and  that  a  real 
suspicion  began  to  take  possession  of  his  mind.  He  had 
just  placed  at  the  orders  of  Athos  the  only  post  that  could 
protect  him.  He  had  a  mile  of  causeway  to  traverse  before 
he  could  regain  his  camp.  The  fog  increased  with  such  in- 
tensity that  he  could  scarcely  distinguish  objects  at  ten 
paces'  distance.  Monk  then  thought  he  heard  the  sound 
of  an  oar  over  the  marsh  on  the  right.  "Who  goes  there?" 
said  he. 

But  nobody  answered;  then  he  cocked  his  pistol,  took 
his  sword  in  his  hand,  and  quickened  his  pace,  without, 
however,  being  willing  to  call  anybody.  Such  a  summons, 
for  which  there  was  no  absolute  necessity,  appeared  un- 
worthy of  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

'  THE   NEXT   DAY. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  first  rays  of  day 
lightened  the  pools  of  the  marsh,  in  which  the  sun  was  re- 
flected like  a  red  ball,  when  Athos,  awaking  and  opening 
the  window  of  his  bedchamber,  which  looked  out  upon  the 


188  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOXNE. 

banks  of  the  river,  perceived,  at  fifteen  paces'  distance 
from  him,  the  sergeant  and  the  men  who  had  accompanied 
him  the  evening  before,  and  who,  after  having  deposited 
his  casks  at  his  house,  had  returned  to  the  camp  by  the 
causeway  on  the  right. 

For  what  could  these  men,  after  having  returned  to  the 
camp,  come  back?  That  was  the  question  which  first  pre- 
sented itself  to  Athos.  The  sergeant,  with  his  head  raised, 
appeared  to  be  watching  the  moment  when  the  gentleman 
should  appear,  to  address  him.  Athos,  surprised  to  see 
these  men  there,  whom  he  had  seen  depart  the  night  before, 
could  not  prevent  himself  from  expressing  his  astonishment 
to  them. 

"There  is  nothing  surprising  in  that,  monsieur,"  said 
the  sergeant;  "for  yesterday  the  general  commanded  me  to 
watch  over  your  safety,  and  I  thought  it  right  to  obey  that 
order." 

"Is  the  general  at  the  camp?"  asked  Athos. 

"No  doubt  he  is,  monsieur;  as  when  he  left  you  he  was 
going  back." 

"Well,  wait  for  me  a  moment;  I  am  going  thither  to  ren- 
der au  account  of  the  fidelity  with  which  you  fulfilled  your 
duty,  and  to  get  my  sword,  which  I  left  upon  the  table  in 
the  tent." 

"That  falls  out  very  well,"  said  the  sergeant,  "for  we 
were  about  to  request  you  to  do  so." 

Athos  fancied  he  could  detect  an  air  of  equivocal  bonhomie 
upon  the  countenance  of  the  sergeant;  but  the  adventure 
of  the  vault  might  have  excited  the  curiosity  of  the  man, 
and  he  was  not  surprised  that  he  allowed  some  of  the  feel- 
ings which  agitated  his  mind  to  appear  in  his  face.  Athos 
closed  the  doors  carefully,  confiding  the  keys  to  Grimaud,who 
had  chosen  his  domicile  beneath  the  shed  itself,  which  led 
to  the  cellar  where  the  casks  had  been  deposited.  The  ser- 
geant escorted  the  Comte  de  la  Fere  to  the  camp.  There 
a  fresh  guard  awaited  him,  and  relieved  the  four  men  who 
had  conducted  Athos.  This  fresh  guard  was  commanded 
by  the  aid-de-camp  Digby,  who,  on  their  way,  fixed  upon 
Athos  looks  so  little  encouraging,  that  the  Frenchman 
asked  himself,  whence  arose,  with  regard  to  him,  this  vigi- 
lance and  this  severity,  when  the  evening  before  he  had 
been  left  perfectly  free.  He  continued  his  way  not  the  less 
to  the  headquarters,  keeping  to  himself  the  observations 
which  men  and  things  forced  him  to  make.  He  found 
under  the  general's  tent,  to  which  he  had  been  introduced 


THE  VICOMTE  DE   BEAGELONKE.  189 

the  evening  before,  three  superior  officers;  these  were 
Monk's  lieutenant  and  two  colonels.  Athos  perceived  his 
sword:  it  was  still  on  the  table  where  he  had  left  it.  Neither 
of  the  officers  had  seen  Athos,  consequently  neither  of  them 
knew  him.  Monk's  lieutenant  asked  him,  at  the  appear- 
ance of  Athos,  if  that  were  the  same  gentleman  with  whom 
the  general  had  left  the  tent. 

"Yes,  your  honor,"  said  the  sergeant;  "it  is  the  same." 

"But,"  said  Athos  haughtily,  "I  do  not  deny  it,  I  think; 
and  now,  gentlemen,  in  my  turn,  permit  me  to  ask  you  to 
what  purpose  are  these  questions  asked,  and  particularly 
some  explanations  upon  the  tone  in  which  you  ask  them?" 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "if  we  address  these 
questions  to  you,  it  is  because  we  have  a  right  to  do  so,  and 
if  we  make  them  in  a  particular  tone,  it  is  because  that 
tone,  believe  me,  agrees  with  the  circumstances." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Athos,  "you  do  not  know  who  I  am, 
but  I  must  tell  you  I  acknowledge  no  one  here  but  General 
Monk  as  my  equal.  Where  is  he?  Let  me  be  conducted  to 
him,  and  if  he  has  any  questions  to  put  to  me,  I  will  answer 
him,  and  to  his  satisfaction,  I  hope.  I  repeat,  gentlemen, 
where  is  the  general?" 

"Eh!  good  God!  you  know  better  than  we  do,  where  he 
is,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"I?" 

"Yes,  you." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Athos,  "I  do  not  understand  you." 

"You  will  understand  me — and,  on  your  part,  in  the  first 
place,  do  not  speak  so  loud." 

Athos  smiled  disdainfully. 

"We  don't  ask  you  to  smile,"  said  one  of  the  colonels 
warmly;  "we  require  you  to  answer." 

"And  I,  gentlemen,  declare  to  you  that  I  will  not  reply 
until  I  am  in  the  presence  of  the  general." 

"But,"  replied  the  same  colonel  who  had  already  spoken, 
ayou  know  very  well  that  that  is  impossible." 

"This  is  the  second  time  I  have  received  this  strange  re- 
ply to  the  wish  I  express,"  said  Athos.  "Is  the  general 
absent?" 

This  question  was  made  with  such  apparent  good  faith, 
and  the  gentleman  wore  an  air  of  such  natural  surprise, 
that  the  three  officers  exchanged  a  meaning  look.  The 
lieutenant,  by  a  tacit  convention  with  the  other  two,  was 
spokesman. 

"Monsieur,  the  general  left  you  last  night  in  the  bounda- 
ries of  the  monastery," 


190  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

°Yes,  monsieur.'" 

"And  you  went " 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  answer  you,  but  for  those  who  nay© 
accompanied  me.     They  were  your  soldiers,  ask  them." 

"But  if  we  please  to  interrogate  you?" 

"Then  it  will  please  me  to  reply,  monsieur,  that  I  do  not 
appeal  to  any  one  here,  that  I  know  no  one  here  but  the 
general,  and  that  it  is  to  him  alone  I  will  reply." 

"So  be  it,  monsieur;  but  as  we  are  the  masters,  we  con- 
stitute ourselves  a  council  of  war,  and  when  you  are  before 
judges  you  must  reply." 

The  countenance  of  Athos  expressed  nothing  but  aston- 
ishment and  disdain,  instead  of  the  terror  the  officers 
expected  to  read  in  it  at  this  threat. 

"Scotch  or  English  judges  upon  me,  a  subject  of  the  king 
of  France;  upon  me,  placed  under  the  safeguard  of  British 
honor!  You  are  mad,  gentlemen!"  said  Athos  shrugging 
his  shoulders. 

The  officers  looked  at  one  another.  "Then,  monsieur," 
said  one  of  them,  "do  you  pretend  not  to  know  where  th« 
general  is?" 

"To  that,  monsieur,  I  have  already  replied." 

"Yes,  but  you  have  already  replied  an  incredible  thing." 

"It  is  true,  nevertheless,  gentlemen.  Men  of  my  rank  are 
not  generally  liars.  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  have  told  you,  and 
when  I  have  at  my  side  the  sword  which,  by  an  excess  of 
delicacy,  I  last  night  left  upon  the  table  whereon  it  still  lies, 
believe  me,  no  man  says  that  to  me  which  I  am  unwilling 
to  hear.  I  am  at  this  moment  disarmed;  if  you  pretend 
to  be  my  judges,  try  me;  if  you  are  but  my  executioners, 
kill  me." 

"But,  monsieur — "  asked  the  lieutenant  in  a  more  cour- 
teous voice,  struck  with  the  lofty  coolness  of  Athos. 

"Monsieur,  I  came  to  speak  confidentially  with  your  gen- 
eral about  affairs  of  importance.  It  was  not  an  ordinary 
welcome  that  he  gave  me.  The  accounts  your  soldiers  can 
give  you  may  convince  you  of  that.  If,  then,  the  general 
received  me  in  that  manner,  he  knew  what  were  my  titles 
to  his  esteem.  Now,  you  do  not  suspect,  I  should  think, 
that  I  should  reveal  my  secrets  to  you,  and  still  less  his." 

"But  these  casks,  what  do  they  contain?" 

"Have  you  not  pat  that  question  to  your  soldiers?  What 
was  their  reply?" 

"That  they  contained  powdev  and  ball.' 

"From  whom  had  tbey  that  information?  They  must 
have  told  you  chat  .     ^ 


THE  VICOMTE  DE   BRAGELOHNB.  191 

s'From  the  general;  but  we  are  not  dupes." 

"Beware,  gentlemen;  it  is  not  to  me  you  are  now  giving 
the  lie,  it  is  to  your  leader." 

The  officers  again  looked  at  one  another.  Athos  contin- 
ued: "Before  your  soldiers  the  general  told  me  to  wait  a 
week,  and  at  the  expiration  of  that  week  he  would  give  me 
the  answer  he  had  to  make  me.  Have  I  fled  away?  No;  1 
wait." 

"He  told  yoa  to  wait  a  week!"  cried  the  lieutenant. 

"He  told  me  so,  clearly  so,  monsieur,  that  I  have  a  sloop 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  which  I  could  with  ease  have 
joined  yesterday,  and  embarked.  Now,  if  I  have  remained, 
it  was  only  in  compliance  with  the  desire  of  your  general; 
his  honor  having  requested  me  not  to  depart  without  a  last 
audience,  which  he  fixed  at  a  week  hence.  1  repeat  to  you, 
then,  I  am  waiting." 

The  lieutenant  turned  toward  the  other  officers,  and  said, 
in  a  low  voice:  "If  this  gentleman  speaks  truth,  there  may 
still  be  some  hope.  The  general  may  be  carrying  out  some 
negotiations  so  secret  that  he  thought  it  imprudent  to  in- 
form even  us.  Then  the  time  limited  for  his  absence  would 
be  a  week."  Then,  turning  toward  Athos:  "Monsieur," 
said  he,  "your  declaration  is  of  the  most  serious  importance; 
are  you  willing  to  repeat  it  under  the  seal  of  an  oath?" 

"Monsieur,"  replied  Athos,  "I  have  always  lived  in  a 
world  where  my  simple  word  was  regarded  as  the  most 
.sacred  of  oaths." 

"This  time,  howevej,  monsieur,  the  circumstance  is  more 

grave  than  any  you  may  have  been  placed  in.     The  safety 

<of  the  whole  army  is  at  stake.     Eeflect:  the  general  has 

I  disappeared,  and  our  search  for  him  has  been  in  vain.     Is 

i  this  disappearance  natural?     Has  a  crime  been  committed? 

Are  we  not  bound  to  carry  our  investigations  to  extremity? 

Have  we  any  right  to  wait  with  patience?     At  this  moment, 

everything,   monsieur,   depends   upon   the  words  you   are 

about  to  pronounce." 

"Interrogated  thus,  monsieur,  I  no  longer  hesitate," 
said  Athos.  "Yes,  I  came  hither  to  converse  confidentially 
with  General  Monk,  and  to  ask  of  him  an  answer  regarding 
certain  interests;  yes,  the  general  being,  doubtless,  unable 
to  pronounce  before  the  expected  battle  begged  me  to  re- 
main a  week  in  the  house  I  inhabit,  promising  me  that  in  a 
week  I  should  see  him  again.  Yes,  all  this  is  true,  and  I 
swear  it,  by  the  God  who  is  the  absolute  master  of  my  life 
and  vours."     Athos  pronounced  these  words  with  so  much 


192  THE  VICOMTE  i)E   BRAGELONNE. 

grandeur  and  solemnity,  that  the  three  officers  were  almost 
convinced.  Nevertheless,  one  of  the  colonels  made  a  last 
attempt. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "although  we  may  be  now  persuaded 
of  the  truth  of  what  you  say,  there  is  yet  a  strange  mystery 
in  all  this.  The  general  is  too  prudent  a  man  to  have  thus 
abandoned  his  army  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  without  having 
at  least  given  to  one  of  us  a  notice  of  it.  As  for  myself,  I 
cannot  believe  but  that  some  strange  event  has  been  the 
cause  of  this  disappearance.  Yesterday  some  foreign  fish- 
ermen came  to  sell  their  fish  here;  they  were  lodged  yonder 
among  the  Scots;  that  is  to  say,  on  the  road  the  general 
took  with  this  gentleman  to  go  to  the  abbey,  and  to  return 
from  it.  It  was  one  of  those  fishermen  that  accompanied 
the  general  with  a  light.  And  this  morning,  bark  and  fish- 
ermen have  all  disappeared,  carried  away  by  the  night's 
tide." 

"For  my  part,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "I  see  nothing  in 
that  that  is  not  quite  natural,  for  these  people  were  not 
prisoners." 

"No;  but  I  repeat  it  was  one  of  them  who  lighted  the 
general  and  this  gentleman  to  the  abbey,  and  Digby  assures 
us  that  the  general  had  strong  suspicions  concerning  those 
people.  Now,  who  can  say  whether  these  people  were  not 
connected  with  this  gentleman;  and  that,  the  blow  being 
struck,  the  gentleman,  who  is  evidently  brave,  did  not  re- 
main to  reassure  us  by  his  presence,  and  to  prevent  our 
researches  being  made  in  a  right  direction?" 

This  speech  made  an  impression  upon  the  other  two 
officers. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Athos,  "permit  me  to  tell  you,  that 
your  reasoning,  though  specious  in  appearance,  nevertheless 
wants  consistency,  as  regards  me.  I  have  remained,  yoi 
say,  to  divert  suspicion.  Well!  on  the  contrary,  suspicion 
arise  in  me  as  well  as  in  you;  and  I  say,  it  is  impossible, 
geptlemen,  that  the  general,  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  should 
leave  his  army  without  saying  anything  to,  at  least,  one  of 
his  officers.  Yes,  there  is  some  strange  event  connected 
with  this;  yet,  instead  of  being  idle  and  waiting,  you  must 
display  all  the  activity  and  all  the  vigilance  possible.  I  am 
your  prisoner,  gentlemen,  upon  parole  or  otherwise.  My 
honor  is  concerned  in  the  ascertaining  of  what  is  become  01 
General  Monk,  and  to  such  a  point,  that  if  you  were  to  say 
to  me,  'Departs  I  should  reply:  'No,  I  will  remain!'  And 
if  you  were  to  ask  my  opinion.  I  should  add:  "Yes,  the 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  1 93 

gener.il  is  the  victim  of  some  conspiracy,  for,  if  he  had  in- 
tended to  leave  the  camp  he  would  have  told  me  so.'  Seek, 
then,  search  the  land,  search  the  sea;  the  general  has  not 
gone  with  his  own  good  will." 

The  lieutenant  made  a  sign  to  the  two  other  officers. 

''No,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "no;  in  your  turn  you  go  too 
far.  The  general  has  nothing  to  suffer  from  these  events, 
and,  no  doubt,  has  directed  them.  What  Monk  is  now 
doing  he  has  often  done  before.  We  are  wrong  in  alarming 
ourselves;  his  absence  will,  doubtless,  be  of  short  duration; 
therefore,  let  us  beware,  lest  by  a  pusillanimity  which  the 
general  would  consider  a  crime,  of  making  his  absence  pub- 
lic; and  by  that  means  demoralizing  the  army.  The  general 
gives  a  striking  proof  of  his  confidence  in  us;  let  us  show 
ourselves  worthy  of  it.  Gentlemen,  let  the  most  profound 
silence  cover  all  this  with  an  impenetrable  veil;  we  will  de- 
tain this  gentleman,  not  from  mistrust  of  him  with  regard 
to  the  crime,  but  to  assure  more  effectively  the  secrecy  of 
the  absence  of  the  general,  and  the  concentrating  of  it 
among  tfurselves;  therefore,  until  fresh  orders,  the  gentle- 
man will  remain  at  headquarters." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Athos,  "you  forget  that  last  night 
the  general  confided  to  me  a  deposit  over  which  I  am  bound 
to  watch.  Give  me  whatever  guard  you  like,  enchain  me 
if  you  like,  but  leave  me  the  house  I  inhabit  for  my  prison. 
The  general,  on  his  return,  would  reproach  you,  I  swear  on 
the  honor  of  a  gentleman,  for  having  displeased  him  in 
this." 

"So  be  it,  monsieur,"  said  the  lieutenant;  "return  to 
your  abode." 

Then  they  placed  over  Athos  a  guard  of  fifty  men,  who 
surrounded  bis  house,  without  losing  sight  of  him  for  a 
minute. 

The  secret  remained  secure,  but  hours,  days,  passed  away 
without  the  general's  returning,  or  without  anything  being 
heard  of  him. 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII. 

SMUGGLING. 


Two  days  after  the  events  we  have  just  related,  and 
while  every  instant  General  Monk  was  looked  for  in  the 
camp  to  which   he  did  not  return,  a  little   Dutch  felucca, 


194  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

manned  by  eleven  men,  cast  anchor  upon  the  coast  of 
Scheveningen  nearly  within  cannon-shot  of  the  port.  It 
was  night,  the  darkness  was  great,  the  sea  rose  in  the  dark- 
ness; it  was  a  capital  time  to  land  passengers  and  merchan- 
dise. 

The  road  of  Scheveningen  forms  a  vast  crescent;  it  is  not 
very  deep  and  not  very  safe;  therefore,  nothing  is  seen  sta- 
tioned there  but  large  Flemish  hoys,  or  some  of  those  Dutch 
barks  which  fishermen  draw  up  upon  the  sand  upon  rollers, 
as  the  ancients  did,  according  to  Virgil.  When  the  tide  is 
rising,  ascends  and  advances  on  the  land,  it  is  not  prudent 
to  bring  the  vessels  too  close  in  shore,  for,  if  the  wind  is 
fresh,  the  prows  are  buried  in  the  sand;  and  the  sand  of 
that  coast  is  spongy;  it  receives  easy,  but  does  not  give  up 
so.  It  was  on  this  account,  no  doubt,  that  a  boat  was  de- 
tached from  the  bark,  as  soon  as  the  latter  had  cast  anchor, 
and  came  with  eight  sailors,  amid  whom  was  to  be  seen  an 
object  of  an  oblong  form,  a  sort  of  large  panier  or  bale. 

The  shore  was  deserted;  the  few  fishermen  inhabiting  the 
rlune  were  gone  to  bed.  The  only  sentinel  that  guarded 
the  coast  (a  coast  very  badly  guarded,  seeing  that  a  landing 
from  large  ships  was  impossible),  without  having  been  able 
to  follow  the  example  of  the  fishermen,  who  were  gone  to 
bed,  imitated  them  so  far  that  he  slept  at  the  back  of  his 
watch-box  as  soundly  as  they  slept  in  their  beds.  The  only 
noise  to  be  heard,  then,  was  the  whistling  of  the  night- 
breeze  among  the  bushes  and  the  brambles  of  the  dune. 
But  the  people  who  were  approaching  were,  doubtless,  mis- 
trustful people,  for  this  real  silence  and  apparent  solitude 
did  not  satisfy  them.  Their  boat,  therefore,  scarcely  visi- 
ble as  a  dark  speck  upon  the  ocean,  glided  along  noiselessly, 
avoiding  the  use  of  their  oars  for  fear  of  being  heard,  and 
gained  the  nearest  land.  Scarcely  had  it  touched  the 
ground  when  a  single  man  jumped  out  of  the  boat,  after 
having  given  a  brief  order,  in  a  manner  which  denoted  the 
habit  of  commanding.  In  consequence  of  this  order,  several 
muskets  immediately  glittered  in  the  feeble  light  reflected 
from  that  mirror  of  the  heavens,  the  sea;  and  the  oblong 
bale  of  which  we  spoke,  containing,  no  doubt,  some  contra- 
band object,  was  transported  to  land  with  infinite  precau- 
tions. Immediately  after,  the  man  who  had  landed  first  set 
off  at  a  hasty  pace  diagonally  toward  the  village  of  Scheve- 
ningen, directing  his  course  to  the  nearest  point  of  the 
wood.  When  there,  he  sought  for  that  house  already  de- 
scribed as  the  temporary  residence — and  a  very  humble  resi- 


THE  YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONtfE.  1§S 

i  dence — of  him  who  was  styled  by  courtesy  King  of  England, 
All  were  asleep  there,  as  everywhere  else,  only  a  large  dog, 
i  of  the  race  of  those  which  the  fishermen  of  Scheveningen 
harness  to  little  carts  to  carry  fish  to  the  Hague,  began  to 
bark  formidably  as  soon  as  the  stranger's  steps  were  audible 
beneath  the  windows  But  this  watchfulness,  instead  of 
alarming  the  newly  landed  man,  appeared,  on  the  contrary, 
to  give  him  great  joy,  for  his  voice  might  perhaps  have 
proved  insufficient  to  rouse  the  people  of  the  house,  while, 
with  an  auxiliary  of  that  sort,  his  voice  became  almost  use- 
less.  The  stranger  waited  then,  till  these  reiterated  and 
sonorous  barkings  should,  according  to  all  probability,  havri 
produced  their  effect,  and  then  he  ventured  a  summons. 
On  hearing  his  voice,  the  dog  began  to  roar  with  such  vio- 
lence that  soon  another  voice  was  heard  from  the  interior, 
appeasing  that  of  the  dog.     With  that  the  dog  was  quieted, 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  that  voice,  at  the  same  time 
weak,  broken,  and  civil. 

"I  want  His  Majesty  King  Charles  II.,  King  of  England.," 
said  the  stranger. 

"What  do  you  want  with  him?" 

"I  want  to  speak  to  him." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"Ah,  mordioux!  you  ask  too  much;  I  don't  like  tailing 
through  doors." 

"Only  tell  me  your  name." 

"I  don't  like  to  declare  my  name  in  the  open  air,  neither ; 
besides,  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  not  eat  your  dog,  and  I 
hope  to  God  he  will  be  as  reserved  with  respect  to  me  " 

"You  brin^  news,  perhaps,  monsieur,  do  you  not?'"'  re- 
plied the  voice,  patient  and  querulous  as  that  of  an  old 
man. 

"I  will  answer  for  it,  I  bring  you  news  you  little  expect. 
Open  the  door,  then,  d  you  please,  hein!" 

"Monsieur,"  persisted  the  old  man,  "do  you  believe, 
upon  your  soul  and  conscience,  that  your  news  is  worth 
waking  the  king  for?" 

"For  Ood's  sake,  my  dear  monsieur,  draw  your  bolts; 
you  will  not  be  sorry,  I  will  swear,  for  the  trouble  it  will  give 
you.     I  am  worth  my  weight  in  gold,  parole  d'Jionneur." 

"Monsieur,  I  cannot,  notwithstanding,  open  the  door  till 
you  have  told  me  your  name." 

"Must  I,  then?" 

"It  is  by  the  order  of  my  master,  monsieur-" 

"Well,  my  name  is — but,  I  ^arn  you,  my  name  will  tell 
you  absolutely  nothing. '• 


196  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Never  mind;  tell  it,  notwithstanding. " 

"Well,  I  am  the  Chevalier  d'Artagnan." 

The  voice  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"Oh!  good  heavens!"  said  the  voice  on  the  other  side  of 
the  door,  "Monsieur  d'Artagnan!  What  happiness!  I 
could  not  help  thinking  I  knew  that  voice." 

"Humph!"  said  D'Artagnan.  "My  voice  is  known  here! 
That's  flattering." 

"Oh,  yes,  we  know  it,"  said  the  old  man,  drawing  the 
bolts;  "and  here  is  the  proof."  And  at  these  words  he  let 
in  D'Artagnan,  who,  by  the  light  of  the  lantern  he  carried 
in  his  hand,  recognized  his  obstinate  interlocutor. 

"Ah,  mordiouz!"  cried  he,  "why,  it  is  Parry!  I  ought 
to  have  known  that." 

"Parry,  yes,  my  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  it  is  I.  What 
joy  to  see  you  once  again!" 

"You  are  right  there — what  joy!"  said  D'Artagnan, 
pressing  the  old  man's  hand.  "There,  now,  you'll  go  and 
inform  the  king,  will  you  not?" 

"But  the  king  is  asleep,  my  dear  monsieur." 

"Mordiouz !  then  wake  him.  He  won't  scold  you  for 
having  disturbed  him,  I  will  promise  you." 

"You  come  on  the  part  of  the  comte,  do  you  not?" 

"The  Comte  de  la  Fere?" 

"From  Athos?" 

"Ma  foil  no;  I  come  on  my  own  part.  Come,  Parry, 
quick!     The  king — I  want  the  king." 

Parry  did  not  think  it  his  duty  to  resist  any  longer;  he 
knew  D'Artagnan  long  before;  he  knew  that,  although  a 
Gascon,  his  words  never  promised  more  than  they  could 
stand  to.  He  crossed  a  court  and  a  little  garden,  appeased 
the  dog,  who  seemed  seriously  to  wish  to  taste  the  musket- 
eer, and  went  howling  to  the  shelter  of  a  chamber  forming 
the  ground  floor  of  a  little  pavilion.  Immediately  a  little 
dog  inhabiting  that  chamber  replied  to  the  great  dog  inhab- 
iting the  court. 

"Poor  king!"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "these  are  his 
bodyguards.  It  is  true  he  is  not  the  worst  guarded  on  that 
account." 

"What  is  wanted  with  me?"  asked  the  king  from  the 
back  of  the  chamber. 

"Sire,  it  is  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Artagnan,  who  brings 
you  some  news." 

A  noise  was  immediately  heard  in  the  chamber,  a  door 
was  opened,  and  a  flood  of  light  inundated  the  corridor  and 


THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXSTE.  19? 

the  garden.  The  king  was  working  by  the  light  of  a  lamp. 
Papers  were  lying  about  upon  his  desk,  and  he  had  com- 
menced the  foul  copy  of  a  letter  which  showed,  by  the 
numerous  erasures,  the  trouble  he  had  had  in  writing  it. 

"Come  in,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  said  he,  turning 
round.  Then,  perceiving  the  fisherman,  "What  do  you 
mean,  Parry?  Where  is  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Artag- 
nan?"  asked  Charles. 

"He  is  before  you,  sire,"  said  M.  d'Artagnan. 

"What,  in  that  costume?" 

"Yes;  look  at  me,  sire;  do  you  not  remember  having 
seen  me  at  Blois,  in  the  antechamber  of  King  Louis  XIV.  ?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,  and  I  remember  I  was  much  pleased 
with  you." 

D'Artagnan  bowed.  "It  was  my  duty  to  conduct  myself 
as  I  did,  the  moment  I  knew  that  I  had  the  honor  of  being 
near  your  majesty." 

"You  bring  me  news,  do  you  say?" 

"Yes,  sire.' 

"From  the  King  of  France?" 

"Mafoi!  no,  sire,"  replied  D'Artagnan.  "Your  majesty 
must  have  seen  yonder  that  the  King  of  France  is  only  oc- 
cupied with  his  own  majesty." 

Charles  raised  his  eyes  toward  heaven. 

"No,  sire,  no,"  continued  D'Artagnan.  "I  bring  news 
entirely  composed  of  personal  facts.  Nevertheless,  I  hope 
your  majesty  will  listen  to  the  facts  and  news  with  some 
favor." 

"Speak,  monsieur." 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,  sire,  your  majesty  spoke  a  great 
deal  at  Blois  of  the  embarrassed  state  in  which  the  affairs 
of  England  are." 

Charles  colored.  "Monsieur,"  said  he,  "it  was  to  the 
King  of  France  I  related " 

"Oh!  your  majesty  is  mistaken,"  said  the  musketeer 
coolly;  "I  know  how  to  speak  to  kings  in  misfortune.  It 
is  only  when  they  are  in  misfortune  that  they  speak  to  me; 
once  fortunate,  they  look  upon  me  no  more.  I  have,  then, 
for  your  majesty,  not  only  the  greatest  respect,  but,  still 
more,  the  most  absolute  devotion;  and  that,  believe  me, 
with  me,  sire,  means  something.  Now,  hearing  your  maj- 
esty complain  of  your  destiny,  I  found  that  you  were  noble 
and  generous,  and  bore  misfortune  well." 

"In  truth,"  said  Charles,  much  astonished,  "I  do  not 
know  which  I  ought  to  prefer,  your  freedoms  or  your  re- 
spects.'5 


198  THE   YICOMTE   DE    BRAGELONNE. 

"You  will  choose  presently,  sire,"  said  D'Artagnm. 
"Then  your  majesty  complained  to  your  brother,  Louis 
XIV.,  of  the  difficulty  you  experienced  in  returning  to 
England  and  regaining  your  throne,  for  want  of  men  and 
money." 

Charles  allowed  a  movement  of  impatience  to  escape  him. 

"And  the  principal  object  your  majesty  found  iu  your 
way,"  continued  D'Artagnan,  "was  a  certain  general  com- 
manding the  armies  of  the  parliament,  and  who  was  playing 
yonder  the  part  of  another  Cromwell.  Did  not  your  maj- 
esty say  so?" 

"Yes;  but  I  repeat  to  you,  monsieur,  those  words  were 
for  the  king's  ears  alone." 

"And  you  will  see,  sire,  that  it  is  very  fortunate  that 
they  fell  into  those  of  his  lieutenant  of  musketeers.  That 
man  so  troublesome  to  your  majesty  was  one  General  Monk, 
I  believe;  did  I  not  hear  his  name,  correctly,  sire?" 

"Yes,  monsieur;  but,  once  more,  to  what  purpose  are  all 
these  questions?" 

"Oh,  I  know  very  well,  sire,  that  etiquette  will  not  allow 
kings  to  be  interrogated.  I  hope,  however,  presently  you 
will  pardon  my  want  of  etiquette.  Your  majesty  added 
that,  notwithstanding,  if  you  could  see  him,  confer  with 
him,  and  meet  him  face  to  face,  you  would  triumph,  either 
by  force  or  persuasion,  over  that  obstacle — the  only  serious 
one,  the  only  insurmountable  one,  the  only  real  one  you 
met  with  on  your  road." 

"All  that  is  true,  monsieur;  my  destiny,  my  future,  my 
obscurity,  or  my  glory  depend  upon  that  man;  but  what  do 
you  draw  from  that?" 

"One  thing  alone,  that  if  this  General  Monk  is  trouble- 
some to  the  point  you  describe,  it  would  be  expedient  to 
get  rid  of  him,  your  majesty,  or  to  make  an  ally  of  him." 

"Monsieur,  a  king  who  has  neither  army  nor  money,  as 
you  have  heard  my  conversation  with  my  brother  Louis, 
has  no  means  of  acting  against  a  man  like  Monk." 

"Yes,  sire,  that  was  your  opinion,  I  know  very  well;  but, 
fortunately  for  you,  it  was  not  mine." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"That,  without  an  army  and  without  a  million,  I  have 
done — I  myself — what  your  majesty  "thought  could  alone  be 
done  with  an  army  and  a  million." 

"How!     What  do  you  say?     What  have  you  done?" 

"What  have  I  done?  Eh!  well,  sire,  I  went  yonder  to 
take  this  man  who  is  so  troublesome  to  your  majesty." 


THE   ViCOMTE   DE    BRAGELONNE.  ]  09 

"In  England?" 

"Exactly,  sire." 

"You  went  to  take  Monk  in  England?" 

"Should  I  by  chance  have  done  wrong,  sire?" 

"In  truth,  you  are  mad,  monsieur." 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world,  sire." 

"You  have  taken  Monk?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"Where?" 

"In  the  midst  of  his  camp." 

The  king  trembled  with  impatience. 

"And  having  taken  him  on  the  causeway  of  Newcastle,  I 
bring  him  to  your  majesty,"  said  D'Artagnan  simply. 

"You  bring  him  to  me!"  cried  the  king,  almost  indig- 
nant at  what  he  considered  a  mystification. 

"Yes,  sire,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  in  the  same  tone,  "I 
bring  him  to  you;  he  is  down  below  yonder,  in  a  large  chest 
pierced  with  holes,  so  as  to  allow  him  to  breathe." 

"Good  God!" 

"Oh!  don't  be  uneasy,  sire;  we  have  taken  the  greatest 
possible  care  of  him.  He  comes  in  good  state,  and  in  per- 
fect condition.  Would  your  majesty  please  to  see  him,  to 
talk  with  him,  or  to  have  him  thrown  into  the  sea?" 

"Oh,  heavens!"  repeated  Charles,  "oh,  heavens!  do  you 
speak  the  truth,  monsieur?  Are  you  not  insulting  me  with 
some  unworthy  pleasantry?  You  have  accomplished  this 
unheard-of  act  of  audacity  and  genius — impossible!" 

"Will  your  majesty  permit  me  to  open  the  window?" 
said  D'Artagnan,  opening  it. 

The  king  had  not  time  to  reply  yes  or  no.  D'Artagnan 
gave  a  shrill  and  prolonged  whistle,  which  he  repeated  three 
times  through  the  silence  of  the  night. 

"There!"  said  he,  "he  will  be  brought  to  your  majesty." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

IN  WHICH  D'ARTAGNAN"  BEGINS  TO  FEAR  HE  HAS  PLACED 
HIS  MONET  AND  THAT  OF  PLANCHET  IN  THE  SINKING 
FUND. 

The  king  could  not  overcome  his  surprise,  and  looked 
sometimes  at  the  smiling  face  of  the  musketeer-,  and  some- 
times at  the  dark  window  which  opened  into  the  nigH. 
But  before  he  had  fixed  his  ideas,  eight  of  D'Artagnan's 


200  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXXE. 

men,  for  two  had  remained  to  take  care  of  the  bark, 
brought  to  the  house,  where  Parry  received  him,  that  object 
of  an  oblong  form,  which,  for  the  moment,  inclosed  the 
destinies  of  England.  Before  he  left  Calais,  D'Artagnan 
had  had  made  in  that  city  a  sort  of  coffin,  large  and  deep 
enough  for  a  man  to  turn  in  it  at  his  ease.  The  bottom 
and  sides,  properly  mattressed,  formed  a  bed  sufficiently 
soft  to  prevent  the  rolling  of  the  ship  turning  this  kind  of 
cage  into  a  rat-trap.  The  little  grating,  of  which  D'Artag- 
nan had  spoken  to  the  king,  like  the  visor  of  a  helmet,  was 
placed  opposite  to  the  man's  face.  It  was  so  constructed 
that,  at  the  least  cry,  a  sudden  pressure  would  stifle  that 
cry,  and,  if  necessary,  him  who  had  uttered  that  cry. 
D'Artagnan  was  so  well  acquainted  with  his  crew  and  his 
prisoner,  that  during  the  whole  voyage  he  had  been  in 
dread  of  two  things:  either  that  the  general  would  prefer 
death  to  this  sort  of  imprisonment,  and  would  smother 
himself  by  endeavoring  to  speak,  or  that  his  guards  would 
allow  themselves  to  be  tempted  by  the  offers  of  the  pris- 
oner, and  put  him,  D'Artagnan,  into  the  box  instead  of 
Monk.  D'Artagnan,  therefore,  had  passed  the  two  days 
and  the  two  nights  of  the  voyage  close  to  the  coffin,  alone 
with  the  general,  offering  him  wine  and  food,  which  he  had 
refused,  and  constantly  endeavoring  to  reassure  him  upon 
the  destiny  which  awaited  him  at  the  end  of  this  singular 
captivity.  Two  pistols  on  the  table  and  his  naked  sword 
made  D'Artagnan  easy  with  regard  to  indiscretions  from 
without.  When  once  at  Scheveningen,  he  had  felt  com. 
pletely  reassured.  His  men  greatly  dreaded  any  conflict 
with  the  lords  of  the  soil.  He  had,  besides,  interested  in 
his  cause  him  who  had  morally  served  him  as  lieutenant, 
and  whom  we  have  seen  reply  to  the  name  of  Menneville. 
The  latter,  not  being  a  vulgar  spirit,  had  more  to  risk  than 
the  others,  because  he  had  more  conscience.  He  had  faith 
in  a  future  in  the  service  of  D'Artagnan,  and,  consequently, 
would  have  allowed  himself  to  be  cut  to  pieces,  rather  than 
violate  the  order  given  by  his  leader.  Thus  it  was  that 
once  landed,  it  was  to  him  D'Artagnan  had  confided  the 
care  of  the  chest  and  the  general's  respiration.  It  was  him, 
too,  he  had  ordered  to  have  the  chest  brought  by  the  seven 
men  as  soon  as  he  should  hear  the  triple  whistle.  We  have 
seen  that  the  lieutenant  obeyed.  The  coffer  once  in  the 
house,  D'Artagnan  dismissed  his  men  with  a  gracious  smile, 
saying: 

"Messieurs,  you  have  rendered  a  great  service  to  King 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  201 

Charles  II.,  who  in  less  than  six  weeks  will  be  King  of 
England.  Your  gratification  will  then  be  doubled.  Ee- 
turn  to  the  boat  and  wait  for  me." 

Upon  which  they  departed  with  such  shouts  of  joy  as  ter- 
rified even  the  dog  himself. 

D'Artagnan  had  caused  the  coffer  to  be  brought  as  far  as 
into  the  king's  antechamber.  He  then,  with  great  care, 
closed  the  door  of  this  antechamber,  after  which  he  opened 
ihe  coffer,  and  said  to  the  general: 

"General,  I  have  a  thousand  excuses  to  make  to  you;  my 
manner  of  acting  has  not  been  worthy  of  such  a  man  as 
you,  I  know  very  well,  but  I  wished  you  to  take  me  for  the 
captain  of  a  bark.  And  then  England  is  a  very  inconven- 
» ient  country  for  transports.  I  hope,  therefore,  you  will 
'  take  all  that  into  consideration.  But  now,  general,  you 
are  at  liberty  to  get  up  and  walk."  This  said,  he  cut  the 
bonds  which  fastened  the  arms  and  hands  of  the  general. 
The  latter  got  up,  and  then  sat  down  with  the  countenance 
of  a  man  who  expects  death.  D'Artagnan  opened  the  door 
of  Charles'  cabinet,  and  said:  "Sire,  here  is  your  enemy, 
Monsieur  Monk;  I  promised  myself  to  perform  this  service 
for  your  majesty.  It  is  done;  now  order  as  you  please. 
Monsieur  Monk,"  added  he,  turning  toward  the  prisoner, 
"you  are  in  the  presence  of  His  Majesty  Charles  II.,  Sover- 
eign Lord  of  Great  Britain." 

Monk  raised  toward  the  prince  his  coldly  stoical  look, 
and  replied: 

"I  know  no  king  of  Great  Britain;  I  recognize  even  here 
no  one  worthy  of  bearing  the  name  of  gentleman;  for  it  is 
in  the  name  of  King  Charles  II.  that  an  emissary,  whom  I 
took  for  an  honest  man,  has  come  and  laid  an  infamous 
snare  for  me.  I  have  fallen  into  that  snare;  so  much  the 
worse  for  me.  Now,  you,  the  tempter,"  said  he  to  the 
king;  "you,  the  executor,"  said  he  to  D'Artagnan,  "re- 
taiember  what  I  am  about  to  say  to  you:  you  have  my  body, 
you  may  kill  it,  and  I  persuade  you  to  do  so,  for  you  shall 
never  have  my  mind  or  my  will.  And  now,  ask  me  not  a 
single  word,  for  from  this  moment  I  will  not  open  my 
mouth,  even  to  cry  out.     I  have  said." 

And  he  pronounced  these  words  with  the  savage  invinci- 
ble resolution  of  the  most  mortified  Puritan.  D'Artagnan 
looked  at  his  prisoner  like  a  man  who  knows  the  value  of 
every  word,  and  who  fixes  that  value  according  to  the  ac- 
cent with  which  it  has  been  pronounced. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper  to  the  kimr.  "the 


202  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

general  is  an  obstinate  man;  he  would  not  take  a  mouthful 
of  bread,  nor  swallow  a  drop  of  wine,  during  the  two  days 
of  our  voyage.  But  as  from  this  moment  it  is  your  majesty 
who  must  decide  his  fate,  I  wash  my  hands  of  him." 

Monk,  erect,  pale,  and  resigned,  waited  with  his  eyes 
fixed  and  his  arms  folded.     D'Artagnan  turned  toward  him. 

"You  will  please  to  understand  perfectly,"  said  he,  "that 
your  speech,  otherwise  very  fine,  does  not  suit  anybody,  not 
even  yourself.  His  majesty  wished  to  speak  to  you,  you 
refused  him  an  interview;  why  now  that  you  are  face  to 
face,  that  you  are  here  by  a  force  independent  of  your  will, 
why  do  you  confine  yourself  to  rigors  which  I  consider  as 
useless  and  absurd?  Speak!  what  the  devil!  speak,  if  only 
to  say  'No.'  " 

Monk  did  not  unclose  his  lips,  Monk  did  not  turn  his 
eyes;  Monk  stroked  his  mustache  with  a  thoughtful  air, 
which  announced  that  matters  were  going  on  badly. 

During  all  this  time  Charles  II.  had  fallen  into  a  pro- 
found reverie.  For  the  first  time  he  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  Monk;  that  is  to  say,  of  that  man  he  had  so  much 
desired  to  see;  and  with  that  peculiar  glance  which  God  has 
given  to  eagles  and  king  she  had  fathomed  the  abyss  of  his 
heart.  He  beheld  Monk,  then,  resolved  positively  to  die 
rather  than  speak,  which  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  in  so 
considerable  a  man,  the  wound  in  whose  mind  must  at  the 
moment  have  been  cruel.  Charles  II.  formed,  on  the  in- 
stant, one  of  those  resolutions  upon  which  an  ordinary  man 
rests  his  life,  a  general  his  fortune,  and  a  king  his  kingdom. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he  to  Monk,  "you  are  perfectly  right 
upon  certain  points;  I  do  not,  therefore,  ask  you  to  answer 
me,  but  to  listen  to  me." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  the  king 
looked  at  Monk,  who  remained  impassible. 

"You  have  made  me  just  now  a  painful  reproach,  mon- 
sieur," continued  the  king;  "you  said  that  one  of  my  emis- 
saries had  been  to  Newcastle  to  lay  a  snare  for  you,  and 
that,  parenthetically,  cannot  be  understood  by  Monsieur 
d'Artagnan  here,  and  to  whom,  before  everything,  I  owe 
sincere  thanks  for  his  generous,  his  heroic  devotion." 

D'Artagnan  bowed  with  respect;  Monk  took  no  notice. 

"For  Monsieur  d'Artagnan — and  observe,  Monsieur  Monk, 
I  do  not  say  this  to  excuse  myself — for  Monsieur  d'Artag- 
nan," continued  the  king,  "has  gone  into  England  on  hia 
own  proper  movement,  without  interest,  without  orders, 
without  hope,  like  a  true  gentleman  as  he  is,  to  render * 


THE   ViCOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  203 

service  to  an  unfortunate  king,  and  to  add  to  the  illustrious 
actions  of  an  existence  already  so  well  filled  one  fine  action 
more." 

D'Artagnan  colored  a  little,  and  coughed  to  keep  his 
countenance.     Monk  did  not  stir. 

"You  do  not  believe  what  I  tell  you,  Monsieur  Monk," 
continued  the  king.  "I  can  understand  that — such  proofs 
of  devotion  are  so  rare  that  their  reality  may  well  be  put  in 
doubt." 

"Monsieur  would  do  wrong  not  to  believe  you,  sire," 
cried  D'Artagnan;  "for  that  which  your  majesty  has  said 
is  the  exact  truth,  and  the  truth  so  exact  that  it  appears,  in 
going  to  fetch  the  general,  I  have  done  something  which 
sets  everything  wrong.  In  truth,  if  it  be  so,  I  am  in  de- 
spair. " 

"Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  said  the  king,  pressing  the  hand 
of  the  musketeer;  "you  have  obliged  me  as  much  as  if  you 
had  promoted  the  success  of  my  cause,  for  you  have  revealed 
to  me  an  unknown  friend,  to  whom  I  shall  ever  be  grateful, 
and  whom  I  shall  always  love."  And  the  king  pressed  his 
hand  cordially.  "And,"  continued  he,  bowing  to  Monk, 
"an  enemy  whom  I  shall  henceforth  esteem  at  his  proper 
value." 

The  eyes  of  the  Puritan  flashed,  but  only  once,  and  his 
countenance,  for  an  instant  illuminated  by  that  flash,  re- 
sumed its  somber  impassibility. 

"Then,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  continued  Charles,  "this 
is  what  was  about  to  happen:  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere, 
whom  you  know,  I  believe,  has  set  out  for  Newcastle." 

"What,  Athos?"  exclaimed  D'Artagnan. 

"Yes,  that  was  his  nom  de  guerre,  I  believe.  The  Comte 
de  la  Fere  had  then  set  out  for  Newcastle,  and  was  going, 
perhaps,  to  bring  the  general  to  hold  a  conference  with  me 
or  with  those  of  my  party,  when  you  violently,  as  it  appears, 
interfered  with  the  negotiation." 

" Mordioux!"  replied  D'Artagnan,  "who  entered  the  camp 
the  very  evening  in  which  I  succeeded  in  getting  into  it 
with  my  fishermen " 

An  almost  imperceptible  frown  on  the  brow  of  Monktold 
D'Artagnan  that  he  had  surmised  rightly. 

"Yes,  yes,"  muttered  he;  "I  thought  I  knew  his  person; 
I  even  fancied  I  knew  his  voice.  Unlucky  wretch  that  I 
am!  Oh!  sire,  pardon  me;  I  thought  I  had  so  successfully 
steered  my  bark." 

"There  is  nothing  ill  in  it,  monsieur."  said  the  ki^o;, 


?04  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BKAGELOKNTE. 

"except  that  the  general  accuses  me  of  having  laid  a  snare 
for  him,  which  is  not  the  case.  No,  general,  those  are  not 
the  arms  which  I  contemplated  employing  with  you,  as  you 
will  soon  see.  In  the  meanwhile,  when  I  give  you  my  word 
upon  the  honor  of  a  gentleman,  believe  me,  monsieur,  be- 
lieve me!  Now,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  a  word  with  you,  if 
you  please." 

"I  listen  on  my  knees,  sire." 

"You  are  truly  at  my  service,  are  you  not?'* 

"Your  majesty  has  seen  I  am,  too  much  so." 

"That  is  well;  from  a  man  like  you  one  word  suffices. 
In  addition  to  that  word  you  bring  actions.  General,  have 
the  goodness  to  follow  me.  Come  with  us,  Monsieur  d'Ar- 
tagnan." 

D'Artagnan,  considerably  surprised,  prepared  to  cbey. 
Charles  II.  went  out,  Monk  followed  him,  D'Artagnan  fol- 
lowed Monk.  Charles  took  the  path  by  which  D'Artagnan 
had  come  to  his  abode;  the  fresh  sea-breezes  soon  saluted 
the  faces  of  the  three  nocturnal  travelers,  and,  at  fifty  paces 
from  the  little  gate  which  Charles  opened,  they  found 
themselves  upon  the  dune  in  the  face  of  the  ocean,  which, 
having  ceased  to  rise,  reposed  upon  the  shore  like  a  mon- 
ster fatigued.  Charles  II.  walked  pensively  along,  his  head 
hanging  down  and  his  hand  beneath  his  cloak.  Monk  fol- 
lowed him,  with  crossed  arms  and  an  uneasy  look.  D'Ar- 
tagnan came  last,  with  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"Where  is  the  boat  in  which  you  came,  gentlemen?"  said 
Charles,  to  the  musketeer. 

"Yonder,  sire;  I  have  seven  men  and  an  officer  Waiting 
me  in  that  little  bark,  which  is  lighted  by  a  fire." 

"Yes,  I  see;  the  boat  is  drawn  upon  the  sand,  but  you 
certainly  did  not  come  from  Newcastle  in  that  frail  bark?" 

"No,  sire;  I  freighted  a  felucca  on  my  own  account, 
which  is  at  anchor  within  cannon-shot  of  the  dunes.  It 
was  in  that  felucca  we  made  the  voyage." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king  to  Monk,  "you  are  free." 

However  firm  of  will,  Monk  could  not  suppress  an  excla- 
mation. The  king  added  an  affirmative  motion  of  his  head, 
and  continued: 

"We  will  waken  a  fisherman  of  the  village,  who  will  put 
his  boat  to  sea  immediately,  and  will  take  you  back  to  any 
place  you  may  command  him.  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  here 
will  escort  your  honor.  I  place  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  under 
the  safeguard  of  your  loyalty.  Monsieur  Monk." 

Monk  allowed  u  murmur,  of  surprise  to  escape,  bin*,  and 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOSTNE.  205 

D'Artagnan  a  profound  sigh.  The  king,  without  appear- 
ing to  notice  either,  knocked  against  the  deal  trellis  which 
inclosed  the  cabin  of  the  principal  fisherman  inhabiting  the 
dune. 

"Halloo,  Keyser!"  cried  he,  "awake! 

"Who  calls  me?  asked  the  fisherman. 

"I,  Charles,  the  king." 

"Ay,  my  lord!"  cried  Keyser,  rising  ready  uressed  from 
the  sail  in  which  he  slept,  as  people  sleep  in  a  hammock. 
"What  can  I  do  to  serve  you?" 

"Captain  Keyser,"  said  Charles,  "you  must  set  sail  im- 
mediately. Here  is  a  traveler  who  wishes  to  freight  your 
bark,  and  will  pay  you  well;  use  him  well."  And  the  king 
drew  back  a  few  steps  to  allow  Monk  to  speak  to  the  fisher- 
man. 

"I  wish  to  cross  over  into  England,"  said  Monk,  who 
spoke  Dutch  enough  to  make  himself  understood. 

"This  minute,"  said  the  patron,  "this  very  minute,  if 
you  wish  it." 

"But  will  that  be  long?"  said  Monk. 

"Not  half  an  hour,  your  honor.  My  eldest  son  is  at  this 
moment  preparing  the  boat,  as  we  were  going  out  fishing  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"Well,  is  all  arranged?"  asked  the  king,  drawing  near. 

"All  but  the  price,"  said  the  fisherman;  "yes,  sire." 

"That  is  my  affair,"  said  Charles,  "the  gentleman  is  my 
friend." 

Monk  started  and  looked  at  Charles,  on  hearing  this 
word. 

"Very  well,  my  lord,"  replied  Keyser.  And  at  that  mo- 
ment they  heard  Keyser's  eldest  son,  signaling  from  the 
shore  with  the  blast  of  a  bull's  horn. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  king,  "be  gone!" 

"Sire!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "will  it  please  your  majesty  to 
grant  me  a  few  minutes?  I  have  engaged  men,  and  I  am 
going  without  them,  I  must  give  them  notice." 

"Whistle  to  them,"  said  Charles,  smiling. 

D'Artagnan  accordingly  whistled,  while  the  patron  Key- 
ser replied  to  his  son;  and  four  men,  led  by  Menneville, 
attended  the  first  summons. 

"Here  is  some  money  on  account,"  said  D'Antagnan, 
putting  into  their  hands  a  purse  containing  two  thousand 
five  hundred  livres  in  gold.  "Go  and  wait  for  me  at  Calais; 
yon  know  where." 

And  D'Artagnan  heaved  a  profound  sigh,  as  he  let  the 
purse  M'  into  the  hands  of  Menneville. 


206  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"What,  are  you  leaving  us?"  cried  the  men. 

"For  a  short  time,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "or  for  a  long 
time,  who  knows?  But  with  two  thousand  five  hundred 
livres,  and  the  two  thousand  five  hundred  you  have  already 
received,  you  are  paid  according  to  our  agreement.  "We 
are  quits,  then,  my  friends." 

"But  the  boat?" 

"Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that." 

"Our  things  are  on  board  the  felucca." 

"Go  and  seek  them,  and  afterward  set  off  immediately 

"Yes,  captain." 

D'Artagnan  returned  to  Monk,  saying:  "Monsieur,  I 
await  your  orders,  for  I  understand  we  are  to  go  together, 
unless  my  company  be  disagreeable  to  you." 

"On  the  contrary,  monsieur,"  said  Monk. 

"Come,  gentlemen,  on  board,"  cried  Keyser's  son. 

Charles  bowed  to  the  general  with  grace  and  dignity, 
saying:  "You  will  pardon  me  this  unfortunate  accident, 
and  the  violence  to  which  you  have  been  subjected,  when 
you  are  convinced  that  I  was  not  the  cause  of  them." 

Monk  bowed  profoundly  without  replying.  On  his  side, 
Charles  affected  not  to  say  a  word  to  D'Artagnan  in  private, 
but  aloud:  "Once  more,  thanks,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier," 
said  he,  "thanks  for  your  services.  They  will  be  repaid 
you  by  the  Lord  God,  who,  I  hope,  reserves  for  me  alone 
trials  and  troubles." 

Monk  followed  Keyser,  and  his  son  embarked  with  them. 
D'Artagnan  came  after,  muttering  to  himself:  "Poor  Plan- 
chet!  poor  Planchet!  I  am  very  much  afraid  we  have  made 
but  a  bad  speculation." 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 

THE  SHARES  OF    THE    COMPANY    OF    PLANCHET    &   CO.    RISE 
AGAIN  TO   PAR. 

During  the  passage  Monk  only  spoke  to  D'Artagnan  in 
cases  of  urgent  necessity.  Thus,  when  the  Frenchman  hes- 
itated to  come  and  take  his  repast,  a  poor  repast  composed 
of  salt  fish,  biscuit,  and  Holland  gin,  Monk  called  him, 
saying:  "To  table,  monsieur,  to  table!"  This  was  all. 
D'Artagnan,  from  being  himself,  on  all  great  occasions, 
extremely  concise,  did  not  draw  from  the  general's  concise- 
ness  a  favorable  augury  of  the  result  of  his  mission.     Now,, 


THE  YICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONKE.  207 

as  D'Artagnan  had  plenty  of  time  for  reflection,  he  battered 
his  brains  during  this  time  in  endeavoring  to  find  out  how 
Athos  had  seen  King  Charles,  how  he  had  conspired  his 
departure  with  him,  and  lastly,  how  he  had  entered  Monk's 
camp;  and  the  poor  lieutenant  of  musketeers  plucked  a 
hair  from  his  mustache  every  time  he  reflected  that  the 
cavalier  who  accompanied  Monk  on  the  night  of  the  famous 
abduction  must  have  been  Athos.  At  length,  after  a  pas 
sage  of  two  nights  and  two  days,  the  patron  Keyser  touched 
the  point  where  Monk,  who  had  given  all  orders  during  the 
voyage,  had  commanded  they  should  land.  It  was  exactly 
at  the  mouth  of  the  little  river  near  which  Althos  had 
chosen  his  abode.  Day  was  declining,  a  splendid  sun,  like 
a  red  steel  buckler,  was  plunging  the  lower  extremity  of  his 
disk  under  the  blue  line  of  the  sea.  The  felucca  was  mak- 
ing fair  way  up  the  river,  tolerably  wide  in  that  part,  but 
Monk,  in  his  impatience,  desired  to  be  landed,  and  Keyser's 
boat  placed  him  and  D'Artagnan  upon  the  muddy  bank, 
amid  the  reeds.  D'Artagnan,  resigned  to  obedience,  fol- 
lowed Monk  exactly  as  a  chained  bear  follows  his  master; 
but  the  position  humiliated  him  not  a  little,  and  he  grum- 
bled to  himself  that  the  service  of  kings  was  a  bitter  one, 
and  that  the  best  of  them  was  good  for  nothing.  Monk 
walked  with  long  and  hasty  strides;  it  might  be  thought 
that  he  did  not  yet  feel  certain  of  having  regained  English 
land.  They  had  already  begun  to  perceive  distinctly  a  few 
of  the  cottages  of  the  sailors  and  fishermen  spread  over  the 
little  quay  of  this  humble  port,  when,  all  at  once,  D'Artag- 
nan cried  out: 

"God  pardon  me!  there  is  a  house  on  fire!" 

Monk  raised  his  eyes,  and  perceived  there  was,  in  fact,  a 
house  which  the  flames  were  beginning  to  devour.  It  had 
begun  at  a  little  shed  belonging  to  the  house,  the  roof  of 
which  it  had  seized  upon.  The  fresh  evening  breeze  agi- 
tated the  fire.  The  two  travelers  quickened  their  steps, 
hearing  loud  cries,  and  seeing,  as  they  drew  nearer,  soldiers 
with  their  glittering  arms  pointing  toward  the  house  on 
fire.  It  was,  doubtless,  this  menacing  occupation  which 
had  made  them  neglect  to  signalize  the  felucca.  Monk 
stopped  short  for  an  instant,  and,  for  the  first  time,  formu- 
lated his  thoughts  with  words. 

"Eh!  but,"  said  he,  "perhaps  they  are  not  my  soldiers, 
but  Lambert's." 

These  words  contained  at  once  a  pain,  an  apprehension, 
and  a  reproach  perfectly  intelligible  to   D'Artagnan.     In 


208  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOXNE. 

fact,  during  the  general's  absence,  Lambert  might  hard 
given  battle,  conquered,  and  dispersed  the  parliament's 
army,  and  taken  with  his  own  the  place  of  Monk's  army, 
deprived  of  its  strongest  support.  At  this  doubt,  which 
passed  from  the  mind  of  Monk  to  his  own,  D'Artagnan 
made  this  reasoning: 

'•'One  of  two  things  is  going  to  happen;  either  Monk  has 
epoken  correctly,  and  there  are  no  longer  any  but  Lambert- 
ists  in  the  country — that  is  to  say,  enemies  who  would 
receive  me  wonderfully  well,  since  it  is  to  me  they  owe 
their  victory;  or  nothing  is  changed,  and  Monk,  transported 
with  joy  at  finding  his  camp  still  in  the  same  place,  will 
bot  prove  too  severe  in  his  settlement  with  me." 

While  thinking  thus,  the  two  travelers  advanced,  and 
began  to  find  themselves  engaged  in  a  little  knot  of  sailors, 
who  looked  on  with  sorrow  at  the  burning  house,  but  did 
hot  dare  to  say  anything,  on  account  of  the  menaces  of  the 
toldiers.     Monk  addressed  one  of  these  sailors: 

"What  is  going  on  here?"  asked  he. 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  man,  not  recognizing  Monk  as 
an  officer,  under  the  thick  cloak  which  enveloped  him, 
"that  house  was  inhabited  by  a  foreigner,  and  this  foreigner 
became  suspected  by  the  soldiers.  Then  they  wanted  to 
get  into  his  house  under  the  pretense  of  taking  him  to  the 
camp;  but  he,  without  being  frightened  by  their  numbers, 
threatened  death  to  the  first  who  should  cross  the  threshold 
of  his  door;  and  as  there  was  one  who  did  venture,  the 
Frenchman  stretched  him  on  the  earth  with  a  pistol-shot." 

"Ah!  he  is  a  Frenchman,  is  he?"  said  D'Artagnan,  rub- 
bing his  hands.     "Good!" 

"How,  good?"  replied  the  fisherman. 

"No,  I  don't  mean  that.     Next — my  tongue  tripped." 

"Next,  monsieur?  why,  the  other  men  became  as  enraged 
as  so  many  lions;  they  fired  more  than  a  hundred  shots  at 
the  house;  but  the  Frenchman  was  sheltered  by  the  wall, 
and  every  time  they  tried  to  enter  by  the  door  they  met 
with  a  shot  from  his  lackey,  whose  aim  is  deadly,  d'ye  see? 
Every  time  they  threatened  the  window,  they  met  with  a 
pistol-shot  from  the  master.  Look  and  count — there  are 
seven  men  down." 

"Ah!  my  brave  compatriot,"  cried  D'Artagnan,  "wait  a 
little,  wait  a  little.  I  will  be  with  you;  and  we  will  give  an 
account  of  this  canaille." 

"One  instant,  monsieur,"  said  Monk — "wait." 

"Long?" 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  209 

".No;  only  the  time  to  ask  a  question."  Then,  turning 
toward  the  sailor,  "My  friend,"  asked  he,  with  an  emotion 
which,  in  spite  of  all  his  self-command,  he  could  not  con- 
ceal, "whose  soldiers  are  these,  pray  tell  me?" 

"Whose  should  they  be  but  that  madman,  Monk's?" 

"There  has  been  no  battle,  then?" 

"A  battle,  yes;  but  what  good?  Lambert's  army  is  melt- 
ing away  like  snow  in  April.  All  come  to  Monk,  officers 
and  soldiers.  In  a  week  Lambert  won't  have  fifty  men 
left." 

The  fisherman  was  interrupted  by  a  fresh  salvo  of  mus- 
ketry discharged  against  the  house,  and  by  another  pistol- 
shot  which  replied  to  the  salvo,  and  struck  down  the  most 
daring  of  the  aggressors.  The  rage  of  the  soldiers  was  at 
its  height.  The  fire  still  continued  to  increase,  and  a 
crest  of  flame  and  smoke  whirled  and  spread  over  the  roof 
of  the  house.     D'Artagnan  could  no  longer  contain  himself. 

"Ilordioux!"  said  he  to  Monk,  glancing  at  him  sideways, 
"are  you  a  general,  and  allow  your  men  to  burn  houses  and 
assassinate  people,  while  you  look  on  and  warm  your  hands 
at  the  blaze  of  the  conflagration?  Mordioux!  you  are  not  a 
man." 

"Patience,  monsieur,  patience!"  said  Monk,  smiling. 

"Patience!  yes,  until  that  brave  gentleman  is  roasted — is 
that  what  you  mean?"     And  D'Artagnan  rushed  forward. 

"Remain  where  you  are,  monsieur,"  said  Monk  in  a  tone 
of  command.  And  he  advanced  toward  the  house,  just  as 
an  officer  had  approached  it,  saying  to  the  besieged:  "The 
house  is  burning,  you  will  be  grilled  within  an  hour.  There 
is  still  time;  come,  tell  us  what  you  know  of  General  Monk, 
and  we  will  spare  your  life.     Reply,  or  by  St.  Patrick " 

The  besieged  made  no  answer;  he  was  no  doubt  reloading 
his  pistol. 

"A  reinforcement  is  gone  for,"  continued  the  officer; 
"in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  there  will  be  a  hundred  men  round 
your  house." 

"I  reply  to  you,"  said  the  Frenchman:  "Let  your  men 
be  sent  away;  I  will  come  out  freely  and  repair  to  the  camp 
alone,  or  else  I  will  be  killed  here." 

"Mille  tonnerres  /"  shouted  D'Artagnan,  "why,  that's 
the  voice  of  Athos!  Ah,  canailles!  and  the  sword  of  D'Ar- 
tagnan flamed  from  its  sheath.  Monk  stopped  him,  and 
advanced  himself,  exclaiming,  in  a  sonorous  voice:  "Halloo! 
what  is  going  on  here?  Dig  by,  whence  is  this  fire?  why 
these  cries?" 


210  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

''The  general!"  cried  Digby,  letting  the  point  of  his 
sword  fall. 

"The  general!"  repeated  the  soldiers. 

"Well,  what  is  there  so  astonishing  in  that?"  said  Monk, 
in  acalmtone.  Then,  silence  being  re-established:  "Now," 
said  he,  "who  lighted  this  fire?" 

The  soldiers  hung  down  their  heads. 

"What,  do  I  ask  a  question,  and  nobody  answers  me?" 
said  Monk.  "What,  do  I  find  a  fault,  and  nobody  repairs 
it?     The  fire  is  still  burning,  I  believe." 

Immediately  the  twenty  men  rushed  forward,  seizing 
pails,  buckets,  jars,  barrels,  and  extinguishing  the  fire  with 
as  much  ardor  as  they  had,  an  instant  before,  employed  in 
promoting  it.  But  already,  and  before  all  the  rest,  D'Ar- 
tagnan  had  applied  a  ladder  to  the  house,  crying: 

"Athos!  It  is  I,  D'Artagnan!  Do  not  kill  me,  my  dear- 
est friend!" 

And  in  a  moment  the  comte  was  clasped  in  his  arms. 

In  the  meantime,  Grimaud,  preserving  his  calm  air,  dis- 
mantled the  fortification  of  the  ground  floor,  and  after  hav- 
ing opened  the  door,  stood,  with  his  arms  crossed,  quietly 
on  the  sill.  Only,  at  hearing  the  voice  of  D'Artagnan,  he 
had  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  The  fire  being  ex- 
tinguished the  soldiers  presented  themselves,  Digby  at  their 
head. 

"General,"  said  he,  "excuse  us;  what  we  have  done  was 
for  the  love  of  your  honor,  whom  we  thought  lost." 

"You  are  mad,  gentlemen.  Lost!  Is  a  man  like  me  to 
be  lost?  Am  I  not,  by  chance,  permitted  to  be  absent,  ac- 
cording to  my  pleasure,  without  giving  formal  notice?  Do 
you,  by  chance,  take  me  for  a  citizen  from  the  city?  Is  a 
gentleman,  my  friend,  my  guest,  to  be  besieged,  entrapped, 
and  threatened  with  death,  because  he  is  suspected?  What 
signifies  that  word,  suspected?  Curse  me  if  I  don't  have 
every  one  of  you  shot  that  the  brave  gentleman  has  left 
alive!" 

"General,"  said  Digby  piteously,  "there  were  twenty- 
eight  of  us,  and  see,  there  are  eight  on  the  ground." 

"I  authorize  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere  to  send  the 
twenty  to  join  the  eight,"  said  Monk  stretching  out  his  hand 
to  Athos.  "Let  them  return  to  camp.  Monsieur  Digby, 
you  will  consider  yourself  under  arrest  during  a  month." 

"General " 

"That  is  to  teach  you,  monsieur,  not  to  act,  aiiother  t'v.iiet 
without  orders." 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  211 

"I  had  those  of  the  lieutenant,  general." 

"The  lieutenant  has  no  such  orders  to  give  you,  and  he 
shall  be  placed  under  arrest,  instead  of  you,  if  he  has  really 
commanded  you  to  burn  this  gentleman." 

"He  did  not  command  that,  general;  he  commanded  us 
to  bring  him  to  the  camp;  but  the  comte  was  not  willing  to 
follow  us." 

"I  was  not  willing  that  they  should  enter  and  plunder 
Bay  house,"  said  Athos  to  Monk,  with  a  significant  look. 

"And  you  were  quite  right.  To  the  camp,  I  say!"  The 
soldiers  departed  with  dejected  looks.  "Now  we  are 
alone,"  said  Monk  to  Athos,  "have  the  goodness  to  tell  me, 
monsieur,  why  you  persisted  in  remaining  here,  while  you 
had  your  felucca " 

"I  waited  for  you,  general,"  said  Athos.  "Had  not  your 
honor  appointed  me  a  meeting  in  a  week?" 

An  eloquent  look  from  D'Artagnan  made  it  clear  to  Monk 
that  these  two  men,  so  brave  and  so  loyal,  had  not  acted  in 
concert  for  his  abduction.  He  knew  already  it  could  not 
be  so. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he  to  D'Artagnan,  "you  were  perfectly 
right.  Have  the  kindness  to  allow  me  a  moment's  conver- 
sation with  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere." 

D'Artagnan  took  advantage  of  this  to  go  and  ask  Gri- 
maud  how  he  did.  Monk  requested  Athos  to  conduct  him 
to  the  chamber  he  lived  in. 

This  chamber  was  still  full  of  smoke  and  rubbish.  More 
than  fifty  balls  had  passed  through  the  windows,  and  muti- 
lated the  walls.  They  found  a  table,  inkstand,  and  mate- 
rials for  writing.  Monk  took  up  a  pen,  wrote  a  single  line, 
signed  it,  folded  the  paper,  sealed  the  letter  with  the  seal 
of  his  ring,  and  passed  over  the  missive  to  Athos,  saying: 

"Monsieur,  carry,  if  you  please,  this  letter  to  King 
Charles  II.,  and  set  out  immediately,  if  nothing  detains 
you  here  any  longer." 

"And  the  casks?"  said  Athos. 

"The  fisherman  who  brought  me  hither  will  assist  you  in 
transporting  them  on  board.  Be  gone,  if  possible,  within 
an  hour." 

"Yes,  general,"  said  Athos. 

"Monsieur  d'Artagnan!"  cried  Monk  from  the  window. 
D'Artagnan  ran  up  precipitately.  "Embrace  your  friend 
and  bid  him  adieu,  monsieur;  he  is  returning  to  Holland." 

"To  Holland!"  cried  D  Artagnan;  "and  I?" 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  follow  him,  monsieur;  but  I  re- 
quest you  to  remain,"  said  Monk.     "will  you  refuse  me?" 


SI  2  THE   YTCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Oh,  no,  general;  I  am  at  your  orders." 

D'Artagnan  embraced  Athos,  and  only  had  time  to  bid 
him  adieu.  Monk  watched  them  both.  Then  he  took 
upon  himself  the  preparations  for  the  departure,  the  carry- 
ing of  the  casks  on  board,  and  the  embarkation  of  Athos; 
then,  taking  D'Artagnan  by  the  arm,  who  was  quite  amazed 
and  agitated,  he  led  him  toward  Newcastle.  While  going 
along,  the  general  leaning  on  his  arm,  D'Artagnan  could 
not  help  murmuring  to  himself: 

"Come,  come;  it  seems  to  me  that  the  shares  of  the 
house  of  Planchet  &  Co.  are  rising." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MONK    REVEALS   HIMSELF. 

D'Artagnan,  although  he  flattered  himself  with  better 
success,  had,  nevertheless,  not  too  well  comprehended  his 
situation.  It  was  a  strange  and  grave  subject  for  him  to 
reflect  upon — this  voyage  of  Athos  into  England;  this 
league  of  the  king  with  Athos,  and  that  extraordinary  com- 
bination of  his  design  with  that  of  the  Comte  de  la  Fere. 
The  best  way  was  to  let  things  follow  their  own  train.  An 
imprudence  had  been  committed,  and,  while  having  suc- 
ceeded as  he  had  promised,  D'Artagnan  found  that  he  had 
gained  no  advantage  by  his  success.  Since  everything  was 
lost,  he  could  risk  no  more.  D'Artagnan  followed  Monk 
through  his  camp.  The  return  of  the  general  had  produced 
a  marvelous  effect,  for  his  people  had  thought  him  lost. 
But  Monk,  with  his  austere  look  and  icy  demeanor,  appeared 
to  ask  of  his  eager  lieutenants  and  delighted  soldiers  the 
cause  of  all  this  joy.  Therefore,  to  the  lieutenants  who 
had  come  to  meet  him,  and  who  expressed  the  uneasiness 
with  which  they  had  learned  his  departure: 

"Why  is  all  this?"  said  he.  "Am  I  obliged  to  render  an 
account  of  myself  to  you?" 

"But,  your  honor,  the  sheep  may  well  trembie  without 
the  shepherd." 

"Tremble!"  replied  Monk,  with  his  calm  and  powerful 
voice.  "Ah,  monsieur,  what  a  word!  Curse  me,  if  my 
sheep  have  not  both  teeth  and  claws,  I  renounce  being  their 
shepherd.     Ah,  you  tremble,  gentlemen,  do  you?" 

"Yes,  general,  for  you." 

"Oh!  pray  meddle  with  your  own  concerns.     If  I  have 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOffNE.  213 

not  the  wit  God  gave  to  Oliver  Cromwell,  I  have  that  which 
He  has  sent  to  me;  I  am  satisfied  with  it,  however  little  it 
may  be." 

The  officer  mads  no  reply;  and  Monk,  having  imposed 
silence  on  his  people,  all  remained  persuaded  that  he  had 
accomplished  some  important  work  or  made  some  important 
trial.  This  was  forming  a  very  poor  conception  of  his 
patience  and  scrupulous  genius.  Monk,  if  he  had  the  good 
faith  of  the  Puritans,  his  allies,  must  have  returned  thanks 
with  much  fervor  to  the  patron  saint  who  had  taken  him 
from  the  box  of  M.  d'Artagnan.  While  these  things  were 
going  on,  our  musketeer  could  not  help  constantly  repeat- 
ing: "God  grant  that  Monsieur  Monk  may  not  have  as 
much  self-love  as  I  have;  for  I  declare  if  any  one  had  put 
me  into  a  coffer  with  that  grating  over  my  mouth,  and  car- 
ried me  so  packed  up,  like  a  calf,  across  the  seas,  1  should 
retain  such  an  ill  remembrance  of  my.  pious  looks  in  that 
coffer,  and  such  an  ugly  animosity  against  him  who  had 
inclosed  me  in  it,  I  should  dread  so  greatly  to  see  a  sarcastic 
smile  blooming  upon  the  face  of  the  malicious  wretch,  or  in 
his  attitude  any.  grotesque  imitation  of  my  position  in  the 
box,  that,  mordioux!  I  should  plunge  a  good  poniard  into 
his  throat  in  compensation  of  the  grating,  and  would  nail 
him  down  in  a  veritable  bier,  in  remembrance  of  the  false 
coffin  in  which  I  had  been  left  to  grow  moldy  for  two  days.'* 
And  D'Artagnan  spoke  honestly  when  he  spoke  thus;  for 
the  skin  of  our  Gascon  was  a  very  thin  one.  Monk,  for- 
tunately entertained  other  ideas.  He  never  opened  his  mouth 
concerning  the  past  to  his  timid  conqueror;  but  he  admitted 
him  very  near  to  his  person  in  his  labors,  took  him  with 
him  to  several  reconnaissances,  in  such  a  way  as  to  obtain 
that  which  he  evidently  warmly  desired — a  rehabilitation  in 
the  mind  of  D'Artagnan.  The  latter  conducted  himself 
like  a  past-master  in  the  art  of  flattery;  he  admired  all 
Monk's  tactics,  and  the  ordering  of  his  camp;  he  joked 
very  pleasantly  upon  the  circumvallations  of  the  camp  of 
Lambert,  who  had,  he  said,  very  uselessly  given  himself  the 
trouble  to  inclose  a  camp  for  twenty  thousand  men,  whil" 
an  acre  of  ground  would  have  been  quite  sufficient  for  thfl 
corporal  and  fifty  guards  who  would,  perhaps,  remain  faith 
ful  to  him.  Monk,  immediately  after  his  arrival,  had 
accepted  the  proposition  made  by  Lambert  the  evening  be- 
fore, for  an  interview,  and  which  Monk's  lieutenants  had 
refused,  under  the  pretext  that  the  general  was  indisposed. 
This  interview  was  neither  long  nor  interesting;  Lambert 


214  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOKNE. 

demanded  a  profession  of  faith  of  his  rival.  The  latter  de- 
clared he  had  no  other  opinion  but  that  of  the  majority. 
Lambert  asked  if  it  would  not  be  more  expedient  to  termi- 
nate the  quarrel  by  an  alliance  than  by  a  battle.  Monk 
thereupon  required  a  week  for  consideration.  Now,  Lam- 
bert could  not  refuse  this;  and  Lambert,  nevertheless,  had 
come,  saying  that  he  should  devour  the  army  of  Monk. 
Therefore,  at  the  end  of  the  interview,  which  Lambert's 
party  watched  with  impatience,  nothing  was  decided — 
neither  treaty  nor  battle — 'the  rebel  army,  as  M.  a  Artagnan 
had  foreseen,  began  to  prefer  the  good  cause  to  tiie  bad 
one,  and  the  parliament,  rumpish  as  it  was,  to  the  pompous 
nothings  of  the  designs  of  Lambert.  They  remembered, 
likewise,  the  good  repasts  of  London — the  profusion  of  ale 
and  sherry  with  which  the  citizens  of  London  paid  their 
friends,  the  soldiers;  they  looked  with  terror  at  the  black 
war  bread,  at  the  troubled  waters  of  the  Tweed — too  salt 
for  the  glass,  not  enough  so  for  the  pot;  and  they  said  to 
themselves,  "Are  not  the  roast  meats  kept  warm  for  Monk 
in  London  ?"  From  that  time  nothing  was  heard  of  but 
desertion  in  Lambert's  army.  The  soldiers  allowed  them- 
selves to  be  drawn  away  by  the  force  of  principles,  which 
are  like  discipline,  the  obligatory  tie  in  everybody  consti- 
tuted for  any  purpose.  Monk  defended  the  parliament — 
Lambert  attacked  it.  Monk  had  no  more  inclination  to 
support  the  parliament  than  Lambert  had,  but  '.ic  had  it 
inscribed  upon  his  standarus,  so  that  all  those  of  the  con- 
trary party  were  reduced  to  write  upon  theirs,  "Eebellion," 
which  sounded  ill  in  Puritan  eais.  They  flocked  then  from 
Lambert  to  Monk,  as  sinners  flock  from  Baal  to  God. 

Monk  made  his  calculations,  at  a  thousand  ceseitions  a  day 
Lambert  had  men  enough  to  »as*  twenty  days;  but  there  is  in 
things  which  sink  such  a  growth  of  increase  and  swiftness, 
which  combine  with  each  other,  tnat  a  hundred  left  the 
first  day,  five  hundred  the  second,  a  thousand  the  third. 
Monk  thought  he  had  obtained  his  rate.  But  from  a  thou- 
sand the  desertion  passed  quickly  on  to  two  thousand, 
then  to  four  thousand,  and,  a  week  after,  Lambert,  per- 
ceiving that  he  had  no  longer  the  possibility  of  accepting 
battle,  if  it  were  offered  to  him,  took  the  wise  resolution  of 
decamping  during  the  night,  to  return  to  London,  and  be 
beforehand  with  Monk  in  constructing  a  power  with  the 
wreck  of  the  military  party.  But  Monk,  free  and  without 
inquietude,  marched  toward  London  as  a  conqueror,  aug- 
menting his  army  from  all  the  floating  parties  on  his  pas- 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  215 

sage.  He  encamped  at  Barnet,  that  is  to  say,  within  four 
leagues  of  the  capital,  cherished  by  the  parliament,  which 
thought  it  beheld  in  him  a  protector,  and  looked  for  by  the 
people,  who  were  anxious  to  see  him  reveal  himself  that 
they  might  judge  him.  D'Artagnan  himself  had  not  been 
able  to  fathom  his  tactics;  he  observed — he  admired. 
Monk  could  not  enter  London  with  a  settled  determination 
without  renouncing  civil  war.  He  temporized  for  a  short 
time.  Suddenly,  without  anybody  expecting  it,  Monk 
drove  the  military  party  out  of  London,  and  installed  him- 
self in  the  city  amid  the  citizens,  by  order  of  the  parlia- 
ment; then,  at  the  moment  when  the  citizens  were  crying 
out  against  Monk — at  the  moment  when  the  soldiers  them- 
selves were  accusing  their  leader — Monk,  finding  himself 
certain  of  a  majority,  doclared  to  the  Eump  that  it  must 
abdicate — be  dissolved — and  yield  its  place  to  a  government 
which  would  not  be  a  joke.  Monk  pronounced  this  declara- 
tion, supported  by  fifty  thousand  swords,  to  which,  that 
same  evening,  were  united,  with  hurrahs  of  delirious  joy, 
the  five  hundred  thousand  inhabitants  of  the  good  city  of 
London.  At  length,  at  the  moment  when  the  people,  after 
their  triumphs  and  festive  repasts  in  the  open  streets,  were 
looking  about  for  a  master,  it  was  affirmed  that  a  vessel  had 
left  the  Hague,  bearing  Charles  II.  and  his  fortunes. 

''Gentlemen,"  said  Monk  to  his  officers,  "I  am  going  to 
meet  the  legitimate  king.  He  who  loves  me  will  follow 
me."  A  burst  of  acclamations  welcomed  these  words, 
which  D'Artagnan  did  not  hear  without  the  greatest  delight. 

"Mordioux!"  said  he  to  Monk,  "that  is  bold,  monsieur." 

"You  will  accompany  me,  will  you  not?"  said  Monk. 

"Pardien  !  general.  But  tell  me,  I  beg,  what  you  wrote 
by  Athos,  that  is  to  say,  the  Comte  de  la  Fere — you  know 
— the  day  of  our  arrival?" 

"I  have  no  secrets  from  you  now,"  replied  Monk.  "I 
wrote  these  words:  'Sire,  I  expect  your  majesty  in  six 
weeks  at  Dover.' " 

"Ah!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  no  longer  say  it  is  bold;  I 
say  it  is  well  played;  it  is  a  fine  stroke." 

"You  are  something  of  a  judge  in  such  matters,"  replied 
Monk. 

And  this  was  the  only  time  the  general  had  ever  made  an 
allusion  to  his  voyage  to  Holland. 


216  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOXXE. 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ATHOS  AND  D'ARTAGXAX  MEET  ONCE  MORE  AT  THE  HOSTELRY 
OF  THE   CORXE  DU   CERE. 

The  King  of  England  made  his  entree  into  Dover  with 
great  pomp,  as  he  afterward  did  into  London.  He  had  sent 
for  his  brothers;  he  had  brought  over  his  mother  and  sister. 
England  had  been  for  so  long  a  time  given  up  to  herself — ■ 
that  is  to  say,  to  tyranny,  mediocrity  and  nonsense,  that  this 
return  of  Charles  II.,  whom  the  English  only  knew  as  the 
son  of  the  man  whose  head  they  had  cut  off,  was  a  festival 
for  the  three  kingdoms.  Consequently,  all  the  vows,  all 
the  acclamations,  which  accompanied  his  return,  struck 
the  young  king  so  forcibly  that  he  stooped  toward  the  ear 
of  James  of  York,  his  younger  brother,  and  said,  "In  truth, 
James,  it  appears  to  have  been  our  own  fault  that  we  were 
so  long  absent  from  a  country  where  we  are  so  much  be- 
loved !"  The  cortege  was  magnificent.  Beautiful  weather 
favored  the  solemnity.  Charles  had  regained  all  his  youth, 
all  his  good-humor ;  he  appeared  to  be  transfigured ;  hearts 
seemed  to  smile  beneath  him  like  the  sun.  Among  this 
obstreperous  crowd  of  courtiers  and  worshippers,  who  did 
not  appear  to  remember  they  had  conducted  to  the  scaffold 
at  Whitehall  the  father  of  the  new  king,  a  man,  in  the  garb 
of  a  lieutenant  of  musketeers,  looked,  with  a  smile  upon 
his  thin,  intellectual  lips,  some  times  at  the  people  vocif- 
erating their  benedictions,  and  sometimes  at  the  prince 
who  pretended  emotion,  and  who  bowed  most  particularly 
to  the  women  whose  bouquets  were  strewn  before  his 
horse's  feet.  "What  a  fine  trade  is  that  of  a  king!"  said 
this  man,  drawn  away  by  his  contemplation,  and  so  com- 
pletely absorbed,  that  he  stopped  in  the  middle  of  his  road, 
leaving  the  cortege  to  file  past.  "Xow,  there  is,  in  good 
truth,  a  prince  all  stitched  over  with  gold  and  diamonds, 
enameled  with  flowers  like  a  spring  meadow;  he  is  about 
to  plunge  his  empty  hands  into  the  immense  coffer  in  which 
his  now  faithful — but  so  lately  unfaithful — subjects  have 
amassed  one  or  two  cartload^,  of  ingots  of  gold.  They  cast 
bouquets  enough  upon  him  to  smother  him ;  and  yet,  if  he 
had  presented  himself  to  them  two  months  ago,  they  would 
have  sent  as  many  bullets  and  balls  at  him  as  they 
now  throw  flowers.  Decidedly  it  is  worth  something  to 
be  born  in  a  certain  fashion;  with  submission  to  the 
ilowly,  who  pretend  that  it  is  of  very  little  advantage  to 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  21? 

them  to  he  horn  lowly."  The  cortege  continued  to  file  on, 
and,  with  the  king,  the  acclamations  began  to  die  away  in 
the  direction  of  the  palace,  which,  however,  did  not  prevent 
our  officer  from  being  shoved  about. 

" Mordioux /"    continued  the    reasouer,    "these    people 
tread  upon  my  toes  and  look  upon  me  as  of  very  little  con- 
sequence, or,  rather,  of  none  at  all,  seeing  that  they  are 
Englishmen  and  I  am  a  Frenchman.     If  all  these  people 
were  asked,  'Who  is  Monsieur  d'Artagnan?'    they  would 
reply,  'Nescio  vos.'     But  let  any  one  say  to  them,  'There  is 
the  king  going  by,'  'There  is  Monsieur  Monk  going  by/ 
ithey  would  run  away  shouting,'  Vive  le  Roi!     Vive  Monsieur 
MonhV  till  their  lungs  were   exhausted.     And  yet,"  con- 
tinued he,  surveying,  with  that  look  sometimes   so  keen 
and  sometimes  so  proud,  the  diminishing  crowd — "and  yet, 
reflect  a  little,  my  good  people,  on  what  your  king  has 
done,  on  what  Monsieur  Monk  has  done,  and  then  think 
what  has  been  done  by  this  poor  unknown  who  is  called 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan.     It  is  true,  you  do  not  know  him, 
since  he  is  here  unknown,  which  prevents  your  thinking 
about  the  matter.     But,  bah!    what  matters  it?    All  that 
does  not  prevent  Charles  II.  from  being  a  great  king,  al- 
I  though  he  has  been  exiled  twelve  years,  or  Monsieur  Monk 
'from  being  a  great  captain,  although   he  did  make  a  voyage 
!to  Holland  in  a  box.     Well,  then,  since  it  is  admitted  that 
i one  is  a  great  king  and  the  other  a  great  captain:  'Hurrah 
for  King  Charles  II.!     Hurrah  for  General  Monk!'  "     And 
ihis  voice  mingled  with  the  voices  of  the  hundreds  of  specta- 
tors, over  which  it  dominated  for  a  moment.     Then,  the 
!  better  to  play  the  devoted  man,  he  took  off  his  hat  and 
>waved  it  in  the  air.     Some  one  seized  his  arm  in  the  very 
i  height  of  his   expansive   loyalism.     (In   1660  that   was  so 
I  termed  which  we  now  call  royalism.) 

"Athos!"  cried  D'Artagnan,  "you  here!"     And  the  two 
I  friends  seized  each  other's  hands. 

"You  here! — and,  being  here,"  continued  the  musketeer, 
"you  are  not  in  the  midst  of  all  those  courtiers,  my  dear 
comte.  What!  you,  the  hero  of  the  fete,  you  are  not 
prancing  on  the  left  hand  of  the  king,  as  Monsieur  Monk  is 
prancing  on  the  right?  In  truth,  I  cannot  comprehend 
your  character,  nor  that  of  the  prince  who  owes  you  so 
much!" 

f'Still  a  railer!  my  dear  D'Artagnan,"  said  Athos.     "Will 
you  never  correct  yourself  of  that  vile  habit?" 
"But  you  do  not  form  part  of  the  orteaef" 


218  THE   riCOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"I  do  not,  because  I  was  not  willing  to  do  so.*' 

"And  why  were  you  not  willing?" 

"Because  I  am  neither  envoy,  nor  embassador,  nor  repre- 
sentative of  the  King  of  France;  and  it  does  not  become 
me  to  exhibit  myself  thus  near  the  person  of  another  king 
than  the  one  God  has  given  me  for  a  master." 

"Mordioux !  you  came  very  near  to  the  person  of  the 
Jang,  his  father." 

"That  was  another  thing,  my  friend;  he  was  about  to 
die." 

"And  yet  that  which  you  did  for  him " 

"I  did  it  because  it  was  my  duty  to  do  it.  But  you 
know  I  hate  all  ostentation.  Let  King  Charles  II.,  then, 
who  no  longer  stands  in  need  of  me,  leave  me  to  my  repose, 
and  in  the  shade,  that  is  all  I  claim  of  him." 

D'Artagnan  sighed. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  said  Athos.  "One 
would  say  that  this  happy  return  of  the  king  to  London 
saddens  you,  my  friend;  you  who  have  done  at  least  as 
much  for  his  majesty  as  I  have." 

"Have  I  not,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  with  his  Gascon 
laugh,  "have  I  not  done  much  for  his  majesty,  without  any 
one  suspecting  it?" 

"Yes,  yes;  but  the  king  it  well  aware  of  it,  my  friend," 
cried  Athos. 

"He  is  aware  of  it!"  said  the  musketeer  bitterly.  "By 
my  faith!  I  did  not  suspect  so,  and  I  was  even,  a  moment 
ago,  trying  to  forget  it  myself." 

"But  he,  my  friend,  will  not  forget  it,  I  will  answer  for 
him." 

"You  tell  me  that  to  console  me  a  little,  Athos." 

"For  what?'-' 

"Mordioux!  for  the  loss  of  all  the  expense  I  have  been  at. 
I  have  ruined  myself,  my  friend,  ruined  myself  for  the 
restoration  of  this  young  prince  who  has  just  passed, 
capering  upon  his  isabelle-co\or&i  horse." 

"The  king  does  not  know  yes  have  ruined  yourself,  my 
friend;  but  he  knows  he  owes  you  much." 

"And  say,  Athos,  does  that  advance  me  in  any  respect? 
for  to  do  you  justice,  you  have  labored  nobly.  But  I — I, 
who  in  appearance  marred  your  combinations,  it  was  I  who 
really  macte  them  succeed.  Follow  my  calculations  closely; 
you  might  not  have,  by  persuasions  or  mildness,  convinced 
General  Monk,  while  I  have  so  roughly  treated  this  dear 
general  that  I  furnished  your  prince  with  an  opportunity 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  219 

of  showing  himself  generous;  this  generosity  was  inspired 
in  him  by  the  fact  of  my  fortunate  mistake,  and  Charles  is 
paid  by  the  restoration  which  Monk  has  brought  about." 

"All  that,  my  dear  friend,  is  strikingly  true,"  replied 
Athos. 

"Well,  strikingly  true  as  it  may  be,  it  is  not  less  true,  my 
friend,  that  I  shall  return,  greatly  noticed  by  Monsieur 
Monk,  who  calls  me  'dear  captain'  all  day  long,  although  I 
am  neither  dear  to  him  nor  a  captain,  and  strongly  appre- 
ciated by  the  king,  who  has  already  forgotten  my  name;  it 
is  not  less  true,  I  say,  that  I  shall  return  to  my  beautiful 
country,  cursed  by  the  soldiers  I  had  raised  with  the  hopes 
of  large  pay,  cursed  by  the  brave  Planchet,  of  whom  I  bor- 
rowed a  part  of  his  fortune." 

"How  is  that?  What  the  devil  had  Planchet  to  do  in  all 
this?" 

"Ah,  yes,  my  friend;  but  this  king,  so  spruce,  so  smiling,  so 
adored, Monsieur  Monk  fancies  he  has  recalled  him,  you  fancy 
you  have  supported  him,  I  fancy  I  have  brought  him  back,  the 
people  fancy  they  have  reconquered  him,  he  himself  fancies 
he  has  negotiated  so  as  to  be  restored;  and  yet,  nothing  of 
all  this  is  true,  for  Charles  II.,  King  of  England,  Scotland, 
and  Ireland,  has  been  replaced  upon  the  throne  by  a  French 
grocer,  who  lives  in  the  Kue  des  Lombards,  and  is  named 
Planchet.  And  such  is  grandeur!  Vanity,  says  the  Scrip- 
ture, vanity,  all  is  vanity!" 

Athos  could  not.  help  laughing  at  this  whimsical  outbreak 
of  his  friend. 

"My  dear  D'Artagnan,"  said  he,  pressing  his  hand  affec- 
tionately, "should  you  not  exercise  a  little  more  philosophy? 
Is  it  not  some  further  satisfaction  to  you  to  have  saved  my 
life  as  you  did  by  arriving  so  fortunately  with  Monk,  when 
those  damned  parliamentarians  wanted  to  burn  me  alive?" 

"Well,  but  you,  in  some  degree,  deserved  burning  a  little, 
my  friend." 

"How  so?  What,  for  having  saved  King  Charles' 
million?" 

"What  million?" 

"Ah!  that  is  true;  you  never  knew  that,  my  friend;  but 
you  must  not  be  angry,  for  it  was  not  my  secret.  That 
word  'Remember'  which  the  king  pronounced  upon  the 
scaffold." 

"And  which  means,  souviens-toi  /" 

"Exactly.  That  was  signified.  "Remember,  there  is  a 
million  buried  in  the  vaults  of  Newcastle  Abbey,  and  that 
million  belongs  to  my  son,' " 


220  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

"Ah!  very  well,  1  understand.  But  what  1  understand 
likewise,  and  what  is  very  frightful,  is,  that  every  time  II is 
Majesty  Charles  II.  will  think  of  me,  he  will  say  to  himself: 
'There  is  the  man  who  came  very  near  making  me  lose  my 
crown.  Fortunately,  I  was  generous,  g.eat,  full  of  pres- 
ence of  mind.'  This  is  what  will  say  the  young  gentleman 
in  a  shabby  black  pourpoint,  who  came  to  the  chateau  of 
Blois,  hat  in  hand,  to  ask  me  if  I  would  grant  him  access  to 
the  King  of  France." 

"D'Artagnan!  D'Artagnan!"  said  Athos,  laying  hi& 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  musketeer,  "you  are  unjust." 

"I  have  a  right  to  be  so." 

"No — for  you  are  ignorant  of  the  future." 

D'Artagnan  looked  his  friend  full  in  the  face,  and  began 
to  laugh.  "In  truth,  my  dear  Athos,"  said  he,  "you  have 
some  words  so  superb  that  they  only  belong  to  you  and 
Monsieur  le  Cardinal  Mazarin." 

Athos  frowned  slightly. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  continued  D'Artagnan,  laughing. 
"I  beg  your  pardon,  if  I  have  offended  you.  The  future. 
Nein!  what  pretty  words  are  words  that  promise,  and  how 
well  they  fill  the  mouth  in  default  of  other  things!  Mor- 
dioux!  After  having  met  with  so  many  who  promised, 
when  have  I  found  one  who  performed  ?  But  let  that  pass!" 
continued  D'Artagnan.  "What  are  you  doing  here,  my 
dear  Athos?    Are  you  king's  treasurer?" 

"How — why  the  king's  treasurer?" 

"Well,  since  the  king  possesses  a  million,  he  must  want  a 
treasurer.  The  King  of  France,  although  he  is  not  worth 
a  sou,  has  still  an  intendant  of  finance,  Monsieur  Fouquet. 
It  is  true,  that,  in  exchange,  Monsieur  Fouquet,  they  say, 
has  a  good  number  of  millions  of  his  own." 

"Oh!  our  million  is  spent  long  ago,"  said  Athos,  laugh- 
ing in  his  turn. 

"I  understand;  it  was  frittered  away  in  satin,  precious 
stones,  velvet,  and  feathers  of  all  sorts  and  colors.  All 
these  princes  and  princesses  stood  in  great  need  of  tailors 
and  dressmakers.  Eh!  Athos,  do  you  remember  what  we 
fellows  expended  in  equipping  ourselves  for  the  campaign 
of  La  Kochelle,  and  to  make  our  appearance  on  horseback? 
Two  or  three  thousand  livres,  by  my  faith.  But  a  king's 
robe  is  more  ample;  it  would  require  a  million  to  purchase 
the  stuff.  At  least,  Athos,  if  you  are  not  treasurer,  you 
are  on  a  good  footing  at  court." 

"By  the  faith  of  a  gentleman,  I  knpw  nothing  about  it/' 
said.  Athos  simply. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONXE.  221 

"What!  you  know  nothing  about  it?" 

"No;  I  have  not  seen  the  king  since  we  left  Dover.'' 

"Then  he  has  forgotten  you,  too!  Mordioux!  that  is 
shameful!" 

"His  majesty  has  had  so  much  business  to  transact." 

"Oh!"  cried  D'Artagnan,  with  one  of  those  intelligent 
grimaces  which  he  alone  knew  how  to  make,  "that  is 
enough  to  make  me  recover  my  love  for  Monseigneur  Giulio 
Mazarini.     What,  Athos!  the  king  has  not  seen  you  since?" 

"No." 

"And  you  are  not  furious?" 

"I!  why  should  I  be?  Do  you  imagine,  my  dear  D'Ar- 
tagnan, that  it  was  on  the  king's  account  I  acted  as  I  have 
done?  I  did  not  know  the  young  man.  I  defended  the 
father,  who  represented  a  principle — sacred  in  my  eyes — 
and  I  allowed  myself  to  be  drawn  toward  the  son  by  a  sym- 
pathy for  this  same  principle.  Besides,  he  was  a  worthy 
knight,  a  noble  mortal  creature,  that  father.  Do  you 
remember  him?" 

"Yes;  that  is  true,  he  was  a  brave,  an  excellent  man, 
who  led  a  sad  life,  but  made  a  fine  end." 

"Well,  my  dear  D'Artagnan,  understand  this:  to  that 
king,  to  that  man  of  heart,  to  that  friend  of  my  thoughts, 
if  I  durst  venture  to  say  so,  I  swore,  at  the  last  hour,  to 
preserve  faithfully  the  secret  of  a  deposit  which  was  to  be 
transmitted  to  his  son,  to  assist  him  at  his  need.  This 
young  man  came  to  me;  he  described  his  destitution;  he 
was  ignorant  that  he  was  anything  for  me  but  a  lively  re- 
membrance of  his  father.  I  have  accomplished  toward 
Charles  II.  what  I  promised  Charles  I.;  that  is  all.  Of 
what  consequence  is  it  to  me,  then,  whether  he  be  grateful 
or  not?  It  is  to  myself  I  have  rendered  a  service,  by  reliev- 
ing myself  of  this  responsibility,  and  not  to  him." 

"Well,  I  have  always  said,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  with  a 
sigh,  "that  disinterestedness  was  the  finest  thing  in  the 
world." 

"Well,  and  you,  my  friend,"  resumed  Athos,  "are  you 
not  in  the  same  situation  as  myself?  If  I  have  properly  un- 
derstood your  words,  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be 
affected  by  the  misfortunes  of  this  young  man;  that,  on 
your  part,  was  much  greater  than  it  was  upon  mine,  for  I 
had  a  duty  to  fulfill,  while  you  were  under  no  obligation  to 
the  son  of  the  martyr.  You  had  not,  on  your  part,  to  pay 
him  the  price  of  that  precious  drop  of  blood  which  he  let 
fall  upon  my  brow,  through  the  floor  of  his  scaffold.     That 


222  THE  VICOMfE   DE   BRAGELONSTE. 

which  made  you  act  was  heart  alone— the  noble  and  good 
heart  which  you  possess  beneath  your  apparent  skepticism 
and  sarcastic  irony;  you  have  engaged  the  fortune  of  a 
servant,  and  your  own,  I  suspect,  my  benevolent  miser,  and 
your  sacrifice  is  not  acknowledged.  Of  what  consequence 
is  it?  You  wish  to  repay  Planchet  his  money.  I  can  com- 
prehend that,  my  friend;  for  it  is  not  becoming  in  a  gentle- 
man to  borrow  of  his  inferior  without  returning  him  princi- 
pal and  interest.  Well,  I  will  sell  La  Fere,  if  necessary, 
and  if  not,  some  little  farm.  You  shall  pay  Planchet,  and 
there  will  be  enough,  believe  me,  of  corn  left  in  my  grana- 
ries for  us  two  and  Kaoul.  In  this  way,  my  friend,  you 
will  owe  an  obligation  to  nobody  but  yourself;  and,  if  I 
know  you  well,  it  will  not  be  a  small  satisfaction  to  your 
mind  to  be  able  to  say,  'I  have  made  a  king!'     Am  I  right?" 

"Athos!  Athos!"  murmured  D'Artagnan  thoughtfully, 
"I  have  told  you  more  than  once  that  the  day  on  which  you 
shall  preach  I  will  attend  the  sermon;  the  day  on  which 
you  shall  tell  me  there  is  a  hell,  mordiovx!  I  shall  be  afraid 
of  the  gridiron  and  the  forks.  You  are  better  than  I,  or, 
rather,  better  than  anybody,  and  I  only  acknowledge  the 
possession  of  one  merit,  and  that  is,  of  not  being  jealous. 
Except  that  defect,  damme,  as  the  English  say,  if  I  have 
not  all  the  rest." 

"I  know  nobody  equal  to  D'Artagnan,"  replied  Athos; 
"but  here  we  are,  arrived  gently  at  the  house  I  inhabit. 
Will  you  come  in,  my  friend?" 

"Eh!  why  this  is  the  tavern  of  the  Come  du  Cerf,  I 
think?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"I  confess  I  chose  it  on  purpose.  I  like  old  acquaint- 
ances; I  like  to  sit  down  on  that  place  whereon  I  sank, 
overcome  by  fatigue,  overwhelmed  with  despair,  when  you 
returned  on  the  31st  of  January." 

"After  having  discovered  the  abode  of  the  masked  execu- 
tioner?   Yes,  that  was  a  terrible  day." 

"Come  in,  then,"  said  Athos,  interrupting  him. 

They  entered  the  large  apartment,  formerly  the  common 
one.  The  tavern  in  general,  and  this  room  in  particular, 
had  undergone  great  changes;  the  ancient  host  of  the  mus- 
keteers having  become  tolerably  rich  for  an  innkeeper,  had 
closed  his  shop,  and  made  of  this  room,  of  which  we  were 
speaking,  an  entrepot  for  colonial  provisions.  As  for  the 
rest  of  the  house,  he  let  it  ready  furnished  to  strangers.  It 
was  with  unspeakable  emotion  D'Artagnan  recognized  all 
the  furniture  of  the  chamber  of  the  first  story;  the  wainscot- 


THE    VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE,  223 

ing,  the  tapestries,  and  even  that  geographical  chart  which 
Porthos  had  so  fondly  studied  in  his  moments  of  leisure. 

"It  is  eleven  years  ago,"  cried  D'Artagnan.  llMordioux! 
it  appears  to  me  a  century." 

"And  to  me  but  a  day,"  said  Athos.  "Imagine  the  joy 
I  experience,  my  friend,  in  seeing  you  there,  in  pressing 
your  hand,  in  casting  from  me  sword  and  poniard,  and 
tasting  without  mistrust  this  glass  of  sherry.  Ard,  oh! 
what  still  further  joy  it  would  be  if  our  two  friends  were 
there,  at  the  two  angles  of  the  tables,  and  Kaoul,  my  be- 
loved Raoul,  in  the  threshold,  looking  at  us  with  his  large 
eyes,  at  once  so  brilliant  and  so  soft." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  D'Artagnan,  much  affected,  "that  is 
true.  I  approve  particularly  of  the  first  part  of  your  thought; 
it  is  very  pleasant  to  smile  there  where  we  have  so  legit- 
imately shuddered  at  thinking  that  from  one  moment  or 
another  Mordaunt  might  appear  upon  the  landing." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  D'Artagnan,  brave 
as  he  was,  could  not  restrain  a  slight  movement  of  fright. 
Athos  understood  him,  and  smiling: 

"It  is  our  host,"  said  he,  "bringing  me  a  letter." 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  said  the  good  man;  "here  is  a  letter  for 
your  honor." 

"Thank  yon,"  said  Athos,  taking  the  letter  without 
looking  at  it.  "Tell  me,  my  dear  host,  if  you  do  not  re- 
member this  gentleman?" 

The  old  man  raised  his  head,  and  looked  attentively  at 
E '  Artagnan. 

"No,"  said  he. 

"It  is,"  said  Athos,  "one  of  those  friends  of  whom  I  have 
spoken  to  you,  and  who  lodged  here  with  me  eleven  years 
;ago." 

"Oh,  but,"  said  the  old  man,  "so  many  strangers  have 
I  lodged  here." 

"But  we  lodged  here  on  the  30th  of  January,  1649,''" 
,  added  Athos,  believing  he  should  stimulate  the  lazy  memory 
i  of  the  host  by  this  remark. 

"That  is  very  possible,"  replied  he,  smiling;  "but  it  is  so 
long  ago!"  and  he  bowed,  and  went  out. 

"Thank  you,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "perform  exploits, 
accomplish  revolutions,  endeavor  to  engrave  your  name  in 
stone  or  upon  brass  with  strong  swords!  there  is  something 
more  rebellious,  more  hard,  more  forgetful  than  iron,  brass, 
or  stone,  and  that  is,  the  brain  become  old  of  the  letter  of 
lodgings,  enriched  by  his  trade;  he  does  not  know  me. 
Well,  I  should  have  known  him.  though." 


524  THE  VICOMTE   DK   BRAGELONNE. 

Athos,  smiling  at  his  friend's  philosophy,  unsealed  his 
letter. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "a  letter  from  Parry." 

"Oh!  oh!  said  D'Artagnan,  "read  it,  my  friend,  read  it; 
it  no  doubt  contains  news. 

Athos  shook  his  head,  and  read: 

Monsieur  le  Comte:  The  king  has  experienced  much 
regret  at  not  seeing  you  to-day,  near  him,  at  his  entrance. 
His  majesty  commands  me  to  say  so,  and  £0  recall  him  to 
your  memory.  His  majesty  will  expect  you  this  evening, 
at  the  Palace  of  St.  James,  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock. 

"I  am,  with  respect,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  your  honor's 
very  humble  and  very  obedient  servant,  Parry." 

"You  see,  my  dear  D'Artagnan,"  said  Athos,  "we  must 
not  despair  of  the  hearts  of  kings." 

"Not  despair!  you  have  reason  to  say  so!"  replied 
D'Artagnan. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  very  dear  friend,"  resumed  Athos,  whom 
the  almost  imperceptible  bitterness  of  D'Artagnan  had  not 
escaped.  "Pardon  me,  can  I  have  unintentionally  wounded 
my  best  comrade?" 

"You  are  mad,  Athos,  and  to  prove  it  I  will  conduct  you 
to  the  palace,  to  the  very  gate,  I  mean;  the  walk  will  do  me 
good." 

"You  will  go  in  with  me,  my  friend;  I  will  speak  to  his 
majesty." 

"No,  no!"  replied  D'Artagnan,  with  a  true  pride,  free 
from  all  mixture;  "if  there  is  anything  worse  than  begging 
yourself,  it  is  making  others  beg  for  you.  Come,  let  us 
go,  my  friend,  the  walk  will  be  charming;  I  will,  in  pass- 
ing, show  you  the  house  of  Monsieur  Monk,  who  has  de- 
tained me  with  him.  A  beautiful  house,  by  my  faith. 
Being  a  general  in  England  is  better  than  being  a  marechal 
in  France,  please  to  know." 

Athos  allowed  himself  to  be  led  along,  made  quite  sad 
by  D'Artagnan's  forced  attempts  at  gayety.  The  whole 
city  was  in  a  state  of  joy;  the  two  friends  were  jostled 
at  every  moment  by  enthusiasts  who  required  them,  in 
their  intoxication,  to  cry  out,  "Long  live  good  King 
Charles!"  D'Artagnan  replied  by  a  grunt,  and  Athos  by  a 
smile.  They  arrived  thus  in  front  of  Monk's  house,  before 
which,  as  we  have  said,  they  had  to  pass  on  their  way  to  St. 
James'.     Athos  and  D'Artagnan  said  but  little  on   their 


THE   VICOMTE    BE   BRAGELONNE.  225 

route,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  would  have  had  so 
many  things  to  talk  about  if  they  had  spoken.  Athos 
thought  that  by  speaking  he  should  evince  satisfaction,  and 
that  might  wound  D'Artagnan.  The  latter  feared  that  in 
speaking  he  should  allow  some  little  acerbity  to  steal  into 
his  words  which  would  render  his  company  unpleasant  to 
his  friend.  It  was  a  singular  emulation  of  silence  between 
contentment  and  ill-humor.  D'Artagnan  gave  way  first  to 
that  itching  at  the  tip  of  his  tongue  which  he  so  habitually 
experienced. 

"Do  you  remember,  Athos,"  said  he,  "the  passage  of  the 
'Memoires  de  d'Aubigny,'  in  which  that  devoted  servant,  a 
Gascon  like  myself,  poor  as  myself,  and,  I  was  going  to  add, 
brave  as  myself,  relates  instances  of  the  meanness  of  Henry 
IV.?  My  father  always  told  me,  I  remember,  that  D'Au- 
bigny was  a  liar.  But,  nevertheless,  examine  how  all  the 
princes*  the  issue  of  the  great  Henry,  keep  up  the  character 
of  the  race." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Athos,  "the  kings  of  France  misers? 
You  are  mad,  my  friend." 

"Oh!  you  are  so  perfect  yourself,  you  never  agree  to  the 
faults  of'others.  But,  in  reality,  Henry  IV.  was  covetous, 
Louis  XIII.,  his  son,  was  so  likewise;  we  know  something 
of  that,  don't  we?  Gascon  carried  this  vice  to  exaggeration, 
and  has  made  himself,  in  this  respect,  hated  by  all  who  sur- 
round him.  Henrietta,  poor  woman,  might  Avell  be  avari- 
cious, she  who  did  not  eat  every  day,  and  could  not  warm 
herself  every  winter;  and  that  is  an  example  she  has  given 
to  her  son,  Charles  II.,  grandson  of  the  great  Henry  IV., 
who  is  as  covetous  as  his  mother  and  his  grandfather.  See 
if  I  have  well  traced  the  genealogy  of  the  misers?" 

"D'Artagnan,  my  friend,"  cried  Athos,  "you  are  very 
rude  toward  that  eagle  race  called  the  Bourbons." 

"Eh!  and  I  have  forgotten  the  best  instance  of  all — the 
other  grandson  of  the  Bearnais,  Louis  XIV.,  my  ex-master. 
Well,  I  hope  he  is  miserly  enough,  who  would  not  lend  a 
million  to  his  brother  Charles!  Good!  I  see  you  are  be- 
ginning to  be  angry.  Here  we  are,  by  good  lack,  close  to 
my  house,  or,  rather,  to  that  of  my  friend,  Monsieur  Monk." 

"My  dear  D'Artagnan,  you  do  not  make  me  angry,  you 
make  me  sad;  it  is  cruel  to  see  a  man  of  your  merit  out  of 
the  position  his  services  ought  to  have  acquired;  it  appears 
to  me,  my  dear  friend,  that  your  name  is  as  radiant  as  the 
greatest  names  in  war  and  diplomacy.  Tell  me  if  the 
Luyues,    the    Bellegardes,   and    the    Bassompierces    have 


226  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONKe! 

merited,  as  we  have,  fortunes  and  honors?  You  are  right, 
my  friend,  a  hundred  times  right." 

D'Artagnan  sighed,  and  preceding  his  friend  under  the 
porch  of  the  mansion  Monk  inhabited,  at  the  extremity  of 
the  city,  "Permit  me,"  said  he,  "to  leave  my  purse  at 
home;  for  if  in  the  crowd  those  clever  pickpockets  of  Lon- 
don, who  are  much  boasted  of,  even  in  Paris,  were  to  steal 
from  me  the  remainder  of  my  poor  crowns,  I  should  not  be 
able  to  return  to  France.  Now,  content,  I  left  France,  and 
wild  with  joy,  I  should  return  to  it,  seeing  that  all  my 
prejudices  of  former  days  against  England  are  returned 
accompanied  by  many  others." 

Athos  made  no  reply. 

"So,  then,  my  dear  friend,  one  second,  and  I  will  follow 
you,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "I  know  you  are  in  a  hurry  to  go 
yonder  to  receive  your  reward,  but,  believe  me,  I  am  not 
less  eager  to  partake  of  your  joy,  although  at  a  distance. 
Wait  for  me."  And  D'Artagnan  was  already  passing 
through  the  vestibule,  when  a  man,  half-servant,  half- 
soldier,  who  filled  in  Monk's  establishment  the  double 
functions  of  porter  and  guard,  stopped  our  musketeer,  say- 
ing to  him  in  English: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  Lord  d'Artagnan!" 

"Well,"  replied  the  latter,  "what  is  it?  Is  the  general 
going  to  dismiss  me?  I  only  wanted  to  be  expelled  by 
him." 

These  words,  spoken  in  French,  made  no  impression  upon 
the  person  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  and  who  himself 
only  spoke  an  English  mixed  with  the  rudest  Scotch.  But 
Athos  was  grieved  at  them,  for  he  began  to  think  D'Artag- 
nan was  not  wrong. 

The  Englishman  showed  D'Artagnan  a  letter.  "From 
the  general,"  said  he. 

"Ay,  that's  it,  my  dismissal!"  replied  the  Gascon. 
"Must  it  be  read,  Athos?" 

"You  must  be  deceived,"  said  Athos,  "or  I  know  no 
more  honest  people  in  the  world  but  you  and  myself." 

D'Artagnan  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  unsealed  the  let- 
ter, while  the  impassible  Englishman  held  for  him  a  large 
lantern,  by  the  light  of  which  he  was  enabled  to  read  it. 

"Well,  what  have  you?"  said  Athos,  seeing  the  count*?* 
nance  of  the  reader  change. 

"Read  it  yourself,"  said  the  musketeer. 

Athos  took  the  paper  and  read: 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  227 

"Monsieur  D'Artagnan:  The  king  very  much  regrets 
you  did  not  come  to  St.  Paul's  with  his  cortege.  You  have 
failed  with  him  as  you  failed  with  me,  my  dear  captain. 
There  is  but  one  means  of  repairing  all  this.  His  majesty 
expects  me  at  nine  o'clock  at  the  Palace  of  St.  James;  will 
you  be  there  at  the  same  time  with  me?  His  gracious 
majesty  appoints  that  hour  for  an  audience  he  grants  you." 

This  letter  was  from  Monk. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE    AUDIENCE. 

"Well?"  cried  Athos,  with  a  mild  look  of  reproach, 
when  D'Artagnan  had  read  the  letter  addressed  to  him  by 
Monk. 

"Well?"  said  D'Artagnan,  red  with  pleasure,  and  a  little 
with  shame.  "To  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  accuse  the  king 
and  Monk  was  a  politeness — which  leads  to  nothing,  it  is 
true,  but  yet  it  is  a  politeness." 

"I  had  great  difficulty  in  believing  the  young  prince  un- 
grateful," said  Athos. 

"The  fact  is,  that  his  present  is  still  too  near  to  his  past," 
replied  D'Artagnan;  "but,  after  all,  everything  to  the 
present  moment  proves  me  right." 

"I  acknowledge  it,  my  dear  friend,  I  acknowledge  it.  Ah! 
there  is  your  cheerful  look  returned.  You  cannot  think 
how  delighted  I  am." 

"Thus,  you  see,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "Charles  II.  receives 
Monsieur  Monk  at  nine  o'clock;  me  he  will  receive  at  ten; 
it  is  a  grand  audience,  of  the  sort  which  at  the  Louvre  are 
called  'distributions  of  holy  court  water.'  Come,  let  us  go 
and  place  ourselves  under  the  spout,  my  dear  friend.  Come 
along." 

Athos  replied  nothing;  and  both  directed  their  steps,  at  a 
quick  pace,  toward  the  Palace  of  St.  James,  which  the 
crowd  still  surrounded*  to  catch,  through  the  windows,  the 
shadows  of  the  courtiers,  and  the  reflection  of  the  royal 
person.  Eight  o'clock  was  striking  when  the  two  friends 
took  their  places  in  the  gallery  filled  with  courtiers  and 
politicians.  Every  one  gave  a  glance  at  these  simply 
dressed  men  in  foreign  habits,  at  these  two  noble  heads  so 
full  of  character  and  meaning.     On  their  side,  Athos  and 


228  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

D'Artagnan,  having,  with  two  looks,  taken  the  measure  of 
the  whole  of  the  assembly,  resumed  their  chat.  A  great 
noise  was  suddenly  heard  at  the  extremity  of  the  gallery — 
it  was  General  Monk  who  entered,  followed  by  more  than 
twenty  officers,  all  anxious  for  one  of  his  smiles,  for  he  had 
been  the  evening  before  master  of  all  England,  and  a 
glorious  morrow  was  looked  for  for  the  restorer  of  the  family 
of  the  Stuarts. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Monk,  turning  round,  "henceforward 
I  beg  you  to  remember  that  I  am  no  longer  anything. 
Lately  I  commanded  the  principal  army  of  the  republic; 
now  that  army  is  the  king's,  into  whose  hands  I  am  about 
to  replace,  at  his  command,  my  power  of  yesterday." 

Great  surprise  was  painted  on  the  countenances  of  all,  and 
the  circle  of  adulators  and  suppliants  which  surrounded 
Monk  an  instant  before,  was  enlarged  by  degrees,  and 
finished  by  being  lost  in  the  large  undulations  of  the  crowd. 
Monk  was  going  into  the  antechamber,  as  others  did. 
D'Artagnan  could  not  help  remarking  this  to  the  Comte  de 
la  Fere,  who  frowned  on  beholding  it.  Suddenly  the  door 
of  the  royal  closet  opened,  and  the  young  king  appeared, 
preceded  by  two  officers  of  his  household." 

"Good-evening,  gentlemen,"  said  he.  "Is  General  Monk 
here?" 

"I  am  here,  sire,"  replied  the  old  general. 

Charles  stepped  hastily  toward  him,  and  seized  his  hand 
with  the  warmest  demonstration  of  friendship.  "General," 
said  the  king  aloud,  "I  have  just  signed  your  patent — you 
are  Duke  of  Albemarle;  and  my  intention  is  that  no  one 
shall  equal  you  in  power  and  fortune  in  this  kingdom, 
where — the  noble  Montrose  excepted — no  one  has  equaled 
you  in  loyalty,  courage,  and  talent.  Gentlemen,  the  duke 
is  commander  of  our  armies,  by  land  and  by  sea;  pay  him 
your  respects,  if  you  please,  in  that  character." 

While  every  one  was  pressing  round  the  general,  who  re- 
ceived all  this  homage  without  losing  his  impassibility  for 
an  instant,  D'Artagnan  said  to  Athos: 

"When  one  thinks  that  this  duchy,  this  command  of  the 
land  and  sea  forces,  all  these  grandeurs,  in  a  word,  have 
been  shut  up  in  a  box  six  feet  long  and  three  feet  wide " 

"My  friend,"  replied  Athos, "much  more  imposing  gran- 
deurs are  confined  to  boxes  still  smaller — and  remain  there 
forever." 

All  at  once  Monk  perceived  the  two  gentlemen,  who  held 
themselves  apart  until  the  crowd  had  diminished;  he  made 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  229 

himself  a  passage  toward   them,  so  that  he  surprised  them 
in  the  midst  of  their  philosophical  reflections. 

"Were  you  speaking  of  me?"  said  he,  With  a  smile. 

"My  lord,"  replied  Athos,  "we  were  speaking  likewise  of 
God." 

Monk  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  replied  gayly: 
"Gentlemen,  let  us  speak  a  little  of  the  king  likewise,  if  you 
please;  for  you  have,  I  helieve,  an  audience  of  his  majesty." 

"At  nine  o'clock,"  said  Athos. 

"At  ten  o'clock,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Let  us  go  into  this  closet  at  once,"  replied  Monk,  mak- 
ing a  sign  to  his  two  companions  to  precede  him;  but  to 
which  neither  would  consent. 

The  king,  during  this  so  French  debate,  had  returned  to 
the  center  of  the  gallery. 

"Oh,  my  Frenchmen!"  said  he,  in  that  tone  of  careless 
gayety  which,  in  spite  of  so  much  grief  and  so  many  crosses, 
he  had  never  lost.  "My  Frenchmen!  my  consolation!" 
Athos  and  D'Artagnan  bowed. 

"Duke,  conduct  these  gentlemen  into  my  study.  I  am 
at  your  service,  messieurs,"  added  he  in  French.  And  he 
promptly  expedited  his  court,  to  return  to  his  Frenchmen, 
as  he  called  them.  "Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  said  he,  as  he 
entered  his  closet,  "I  am  glad  to  see  you  again." 

"Sire,  my  joy  is  at  its  height,  at  having  the  honor  to 
salute  your  majesty  in  your  own  Palace  of  St.  James." 

"Monsieur,  you  have  been  willing  to  render  me  a  great 
service,  and  I  owe  you  my  gratitude  for  it.  If  I  did  not 
fear  to  intrude  upon  the  rights  of  our  general  commandant, 
I  would  offer  you  some  post  worthy  of  you  near  our  person." 

"Sire,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  "I  have  quitted  the  service 
of  the  King  of  France,  making  my  prince  a  promise  not  to 
serve  any  other  king." 

"Humph!"  said  Charles,  "I  am  sorry  to  hear  that;  I 
should  like  to  do  much  for  you;  you  please  me  greatly." 

"Sire " 

"But,  let  us  see,"  said  Charles  with  a  smile,  "if  we  can- 
not make  you  break  your  word.  Duke,  assist  me.  If  you 
were  offered,  that  is  to  say,  if  I  offered  you  the  chief  com- 
mand of  my  musketeers?"  D'Artagnan  bowed  lower  than 
before. 

"I  should  have  the  regret  to  refuse  what  your  gracious 
majesty  would  offer  me,"  said  he;  "a  gentleman  has  but  his 
word,  and  that  word,  a?  I  have  had  the  honor  to  tell  your 
majesty,  is  engaged  to  the  King  of  France." 


230  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOX"E. 

"We  will  say  no  more  about  it,  then,"  said  the  king  turn* 
ing  toward  Athos,  and  leaving  D'Artagnan  plunged  in  the 
deepest  pangs  of  disappointment. 

"Ah !  I  said  so !"  muttered  the  musketeer.  "Words ! 
words !  Court  holy  water !  Kings  have  always  a  marvelous 
talent  for  offering  us  that  which  they  know  we  will  not 
accept,  and  in  appearing  generous  without  risk.  So  be  it — 
triple  fool  that  I  was  to  have  hoped  for  a  moment !" 

During  this  time,  Charles  took  the  hand  of  Athos 
"Comte,"  said  he,  "you  have  been  to  me  a  second  fathers 
the  services  you  have  rendered  me  are  above  all  price.  1 
have  thought  of  a  recompense,  notwithstanding.  You  were 
created  by  my  father  a  Knight  of  the  Garter — that  is  an 
order  which  all  the  kings  of  Europe  cannot  bear ;  by  the  queen 
regent,  Knight  of  the  Holy  Ghost — which  is  an  order  not 
less  illustrious;  I  join  to  it  that  of  the  Go.den  Fleece,  which 
the  King  of  France  has  sent  me,  to  whom  the  King  of  Spain, 
his  father-in-law,  gave  two  on  the  occasion  of  his  marriage. 
But,  in  return,  I  have  a  service  to  ask  of  you." 

"Sire,"  said  Athos  with  confusion,  "the  Golden  Fleece  for 
me !  when  the  King  of  France  is  the  only  person  in  my  coun- 
try who  enjoys  that  distinction." 

"I  wish  you  to  be  in  your  country  and  elsewhere  the  equal 
of  all  those  whom  sovereigns  have  honored  with  their  favor," 
said  Charles,  drawing  the  chain  from  his  neck;  "and  I  am 
sure  my  father  smiles  on  me  from  the  depths  of  his  tomb." 

"It  is  unaccountably  strange,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  him- 
self, while  his  friend,  on  his  knees,  received  the  eminent 
order  which  the  king  conferred  on  him.  "It  is  almost  in- 
credible that  I  have  always  seen  showers  of  prosperity  fall 
upon  all  who  surrounded  me,  and  that  not  a  drop  ever  reached 
me !  If  I  were  a  jealous  man,  it  would  be  enough  to  make 
one  tear  one's  hair,  parole  d'honneur" 

Athos  rose  from  his  knees,  and  Charles  embraced  him 
tenderly.  "General !"  said  he  to  Monk — "Pardon  me,  duke, 
I  mean.  No  wonder  if  I  mistake,  the  word  duke  is 
too  short  for  me;  I  always  seek  for  some  title  to  elongate 
it.  I  should  wish  to  see  you  so  near  my  throne  that  I 
might  say  to  you,  as  to  Louis  XIV.,  'my  brother !'  Oh ! 
I  have  it;  and  you  will  be  almost  my  brother,  for  I  make 
you  Viceroy  of  Ireland  and  Scotland,  my  dear  duke.  So, 
after  that  fashion,  henceforward  I  shall  not  make  a  mistake." 

The   duke    seized    the    hand    of    the    king,    but    without 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  231 

enthusiasm,  without  joy,  as  he  did  everything.  His  heart, 
however,  had  been  moved  by  this  last  favor.  Charles,  by 
skillfully  husbanding  his  generosity,  had  left  the  duke  time 
to  wish,  although  he  might  not  have  wished  for  so  much  as 
was  given  him. 

"jMordiouz!"  grumbled  D'Artagnan,  "there  is  the 
shower  beginning  again!  Oh!  it  is  enough  to  turn  one's 
brain!"  and  he  turned  away  with  an  air  so  sorrowful  and 
so  comically  piteous,  that  the  king,  who  caught  it  could 
not  restrain  a  smile.  Monk  was  preparing  to  leave  the  closet 
to  take  leave  of  Charles. 

"What!  my  trusty  and  well-beloved,"  said  the  king  to 
the  duke,  "are  you  going?" 

"If  it  please  your  majesty,  for  in  truth  I  am  tired.  The 
emotions  of  the  day  have  worn  me  out;  I  stand  in  need  of 
repose." 

"But,"  said  the  king,  "you  are  not  going  without  Mon- 
sieur d'Artagnan,  I  hope." 

"Why  not,  sire?"  said  the  old  warrior. 

"Well!  you  know  very  well  why,"  said  the  king. 

Monk  looked  at  Charles  with  astonishment. 

"Oh!  it  may  be  possible;  but  if  you  forget,  you,  Mon- 
sieur d'Artagnan,  do  not." 

Astonishment  was  painted  on  the  face  of  the  musketeer. 

"Well,  then,  duke,"  said  the  king,  "do  you  not  lodge 
with  Monsieur  d'Artagnan?" 

"I  have  the  honor  to  offer  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  a  lodg- 
ing; yes,  sire." 

"That  idea  is  your  own,  and  yours  solely?" 

"Mine  and  mine  only,  yes,  sire." 

"Well!  but  it  could  not  be  otherwise — the  prisoner  is 
always  at  the  home  of  his  conqueror." 

Monk  colored  in  his  turn.  "Ah!  that  is  true,"  said  he; 
"I  am  Monsieur  d'Artagnan'r  prisoner." 

"Without  doubt,  duke,  since  you  are  not  yet  ransomed; 
but  take  no  heed  of  that;  it  was  I  who  took  you  out  of 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan's  hands,  and  it  is  I  who  will  pay  your 
ransom." 

The  eyes  of  D'Artagnan  regained  their  gayety  and  their 
brilliancy.  The  Gascon  began  to  comprehend.  Charles 
advanced  toward  him. 

"The  general,"  said  he,  "is  not  rich,  and  cannot  pay  you 
what  he  is  worth.  I  am  richer,  certainly;  but  now  that  he 
is  a  d  ke,  and  if  not  a  king,  almost  a  king,  he  is  worth  a 
snm  I  could  not  perhaps  pay.  Come,  Monsieur  d'Artag- 
pan,  be  moderate  with  me*. how  mnoh  d.p. I  owe  you?" 


C32  THE   YICOMTE    DE   BRAGEI.ONNE. 

D'Artagnan,  delighted  at  the  turn  things  were  taking, 
but  not  for  a  moment  .osing  his  self-possession,  replied: 
"Sire,  your  majesty  has  no  occasion  to  be  alarmed.  When 
I  had  the  good  fortune  tc  take  his  grace,  Monsieur  Monk 
was  only  a  general;  it  Is  therefore  only  a  general's  ransom 
that  is  due  to  me.  But  if  the  general  will  have  the  kind- 
ness to  deliver  me  his  rword,  I  shall  consider  myself  paid; 
for  there  is  nothing  in  tl  e  world  but  the  general's  sword 
whish  is  worth  so  muc11  as  himself." 

"Odds  fish!  as  my  lather  said,"'  cri  d  Charles.  "That  is 
a  gallant  proposal,  and  a  gallant  man,  is  he  not,  duke?" 

"Upon  my  honor,  yes,  sire,"  and  he  drew  his  sword. 
"Monsieur,"  said  he  to  D'Artagnan,  "here  is  what  you 
demand.  Many  may  h  ve  '  andled  a  better  blade;  but  how- 
ever modest  mine  may  be,  I  have  never  surrendered  it  to 
any  one." 

D'Artagnan  received  with  pride  the  sword  which  had  just 
made  a  king. 

"Oh!  oh!"  cried  Charles  II.;  "what!  a  sword  that  has 
restored  me  to  my  throne — to  go  out  of  the  kingdom — and 
not,  one  day,  to  figure  among  the  crown  jewels!  No,  on 
my  soul!  that  shall  not  be!  Captain  d'Artagnan,  I  will 
give  you  two  hundred  thousand  livres  for  your  sword!  if 
f,hat  is  too  little,  say  so." 

"It  is  too  little,  sire,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  with  inimita- 
ble seriousness.  "In  the  first  place,  I  do  not  at  all  wish  to 
sell  it;  but  your  majesty  desires  me  to  do  so,  and  that  is  an 
order.  I  obey,  then;  but  the  respect  I  owe  to  the  illustrious 
warrior  who  hears  me,  commands  me  to  estimate  at  a  third 
more  the  reward  of  my  victory.  I  ask  three  hundred  thou- 
sand livres  for  the  sword,  or  I  will  give  it  to  your  majesty 
for  nothing."  And  taking  it  by  the  point,  he  presented  it 
to  the  king.     Charles  broke  into  hilarious  laughter. 

"A  gallant  man,  and  a  joyous  companion!  Odds  fish!  is 
he  not,  duke?  is  he  not,  comte?  He  pleases  me!  I  like 
him!  Here,  Chevalier  d'Artagnan,  take  this."  And  going 
to  the  table  he  took  a  pen  and  wrote  an  order  upon  his 
treasurer  for  three  hundred  thousand  livres. 

D'Artagnan  took  it,  and  turning  gravely  toward  Monk: 
"I  have  still  asked  too  little,  I  know,"  said  he;  "but  be- 
lieve me,  Monsieur  le  Due,  I  would  rather  have  died  than 
allow  myself  to  be  governed  by  avarice." 

The  king  began  to  laugh  again,  like  the  happiest  cockney 
of  his  kingdom. 

"You  will  come  and  see  me  again  before  you  go,  cheva- 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  233 

iier?"  said  he;  "I  shall  want  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  gayety 
now  my  Frenchmen  are  leaving  me." 

"Ah!  sire,  it  shall  not  be  with  the  gayety  as  with  the 
dnke's  sword;  I  will  give  it  to  your  majesty  gratis,"  replied 
D'Artagnan,  whose  feet  scarcely  seemed  to  touch  the 
ground. 

"And  you,  comte,"  added  Charles  turning  toward  Athos, 
"come  again,  also;  I  have  an  important  message  to  confide 
to  you.  Your  hand,  duke."  Monk  pressed  the  hand  of 
the  king. 

"Adieu!  gentlemen,"  said  Charles  holding  out  each  of 
his  hands  to  the  two  Frenchmen,  who  carried  them  to  theii 
lips. 

"Well,"  said  Athos,  when  they  were  out  of  the  palace, 
"are  you  satisfied?" 

"Hush!"  said  D'Artagnan,  wild  with  joy,  "I  am  not  yet 
returned  from  the  treasurer's — the  spout  may  fall  upon  mj 
head." 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

OF  THE   EMBARRASSMENT   OF   RICHES. 

D'Artagnan  lost  no  time,  and  as  soon  as  the  thing  was 
suitable  and  opportune  he  paid  a  visit  to  the  lord-treasurer 
of  his  majesty.  He  had  then  the  satisfaction  to  exchange 
a  piece  of  paper,  covered  with  very  ugly  writing,  for  a  pro- 
digious number  of  crowns,  recently  stamped  with  the 
effigies  of  his  very  gracious  majesty  Charles  II.  D'Artag- 
nan easily  recovered  his  self-possession;  and  yet,  upon  this 
occasion,  he  could  not  help  evincing  a  joy  which  the  reader 
will  perhaps  comprehend,  if  he  deigns  to  have  some  indul- 
gence for  a  man  who,  since  his  birth,  had  never  seen  so 
many  pieces  and  rouleaus  of  pieces  juxta-placed  in  an  order 
truly  agreeable  to  the  eye.  The  treasurer  placed  all  the 
rouleaus  in  bags,  and  closed  each  bag  with  a  stamp  of  the 
arms  of  England,  a  favor  which  treasurers  do  not  accord  to 
everybody.  Then,  impassible,  and  just  as  polite  as  he 
ought  to  be  toward  a  man  honored  with  the  friendship  of 
the  king,  he  said  to  D'Artagnan: 

"Take  away  your  money,  sir."  Your  money]  These 
words  made  a  thousand  chords  vibrate  in  the  heart  of  D'Ar- 
tagnan which  he  had  never  felt  before.  He  had  the  bags 
packed  in  a  small  cart,  and  returned  home  meditating  pro- 


234  THE   VICOMTB   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

foundly.  A  man  who  possesses  three  hundred  thousand 
livres  can  no  longer  expect  to  wear  a  smootli  brow;  a 
wrinkle  for  every  hundred  thousand  livres  is  not  too  much. 
D'Artagnan  shut  himself  up,  eat  no  dinner,  closed  his  door 
against  everybody,  and,  with  a  lighted  lamp  and  a  loaded, 
pistol  on  the  table,  he  watched  all  night,  ruminating  upon 
the  means  of  preventing  these  lovely  crowns,  which  from 
the  coffers  of  the  king  had  passed  into  his  coffers,  from 
passing  from  his  coffers  into  the  pockets  of  any  thief  what- 
ever. The  best  means  discovered  by  the  Gascon  was  t© 
inclose  his  treasure,  for  the  present,  under  locks  so  solid 
that  no  wrist  could  break  them,  and  so  complicated  that  no 
master-key  could  open  them.  D'Artagnan  remembered 
that  the  English  are  past-masters  in  mechanics  and  conserv- 
ative industry;  and  he  determined  to  go  in  the  morning  in 
search  of  a  mechanic  who  would  sell  him  a  strong  box.  He 
did  not  go  far.  The  Sieur  Will  Jobson,  dwelling  in  Picca- 
dilly, listened  to  his  propositions,  comprehended  his  wishes, 
and  promised  to  make  him  a  safety  lock  that  should  relieve 
him  from  all  future  fear. 

"I  will  give  you,"  said  he,  "a  piece  of  mechanism  entirely 
new.  At  the  first  serious  attempt  upon  your  lock,  an  in- 
visible plate  will  open  of  itself  and  vomit  forth  a  pretty 
copper  bullet  of  the  weight  of  a  mark,  which  will  knock 
down  the  intruder,  and  not  without  a  loud  report.  What 
do  you  think  of  it?" 

"I  think  it  very  ingenious,"  cried  D'Artagnan;  "the 
little  copper  bullet  pleases  me  mightily.  So  now,  Monsieur 
the  Mechanic,  the  terms?" 

"A  fortnight  for  the  execution,  and  fifteen  hundred 
il/*es,  payable  on  delivery,"  replied  the  artisan. 

D'Artagnairs  brow  darkened.  A  fortnight  was  delay 
enough  to  allow  the  thieves  of  London  time  to  remove  all 
occasion  for  the  strong  box.  As  to  the  fifteen  hundred 
livres — that  would  be  paying  too  dear  for  what  a  little  vigi- 
lance would  procure  him  for  nothing. 

"I  will  think  of  it,"  said  he;  "thank  you,  monsieur." 
And  he  returned  home  at  full  speed.  Nobody  had  yet 
touched  his  treasure.  That  same  day  Athos  paid  his  friend 
a  visit,  and  found  him  so  thoughtful  that  he  could  not  help 
expressing  his  surprise. 

"How  is  this?"  said  he,  "you  are  rich  and  not  gay — you, 
who  were  so  anxious  for  wealth!" 

"My  friend,  the  pleasures  to  which  we  are  not  accu? 
tomed  oppress  us  more  than  the  grief  we  are  familiar  with 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  235 

(rive  me  your  opinion,  if  yon  please.  I  can  ask  you,  who 
have  always  had  money:  when  we  have  money,  what  do  we 
do  with  it?" 

"That  depends." 

"What  have  you  done  with  yours,  seeing  that  it  has  not 
made  you  a  miser  or  a  prodigal?  For  avarice  dries  up  the 
heart,  and  prodigality  drowns  it — is  not  that  so?" 

"Fabricius  could  not  have  spoken  more  justly.  But,  in 
truth,  my  money  has  never  been  a  burden  to  me," 

"How  so?    Do  you  place  it  out  at  interest?" 

"No;  you  know  I  have  a  tolerably  handsome  house,  and 
that  house  composes  the  better  part  of  my  property." 

"I  know  it  does." 

"So  that  you  can  be  as  rich  as  I  am,  and,  indeed,  more* 
rich,  whenever  you  like,  by  the  same  means." 

"But  your  rents,  do  you  lay  them  by?" 

"No." 

"What  do  you  think  of  a  chest  concealed  in  a  wall?" 

"I  never  made  use  of  such  a  thing." 

"Then  you  must  have  some  confidant,  some  safe  man  of 
business,  who  pays  you  interest  at  a  fair  rate." 

"Not  at  all." 

"Good  heavens!  what  do  you  do  with  it,  then?" 

"I  spend  all  I  have,  and  I  only  have  what  I  spend,  my 
dear  D'Artagnan." 

"Ah!  that  may  be.  But  you  are  something  of  a  prince; 
fifteen  or  sixteen  thousand  livres  melt  away  between  your 
fingers;  and  then  you  have  expenses  and  appearances " 

"Well,  I  don't  see  why  you  should  be  less  of  a  noble  than 
I  am,  my  friend;  your  money  would  be  quite  sufficient." 

"Three  hundred  thousand  livres!     Two-thirds  too  much!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon — did  you  not  tell  me — I  thought  I 
heard  you  say — I  fancied  you  had  a  partner " 

"Ah!  mordioitx!  that's  true,"  cried  D'Artagnan,  color- 
ing, "there  is  Planchet.  I  had  forgotten  Planchet,  upon 
my  life!  Well!  there  are  my  hundred  thousand  crowns 
broken  into.  That's  a  pity!  it  was  a  round  sum,  and 
sounded  well.  That  is  true,  Athos;  I  am  no  longer  rich. 
What  a  memory  you  have!" 

"Tolerably  good;  yes,  thank  God!" 

''Bravo,  Planchet!"  grumbled  D'Artagnan;  "he  has  not 
nad  a  bad  dream!  What  a  speculation!  Peste!  Well, 
what  is  said  is  said!" 

"How  much  are  you  to  give  him?" 
'Oh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "he  is  not  a  bad  fellow;  I  shall 


236  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOXNE. 

arrange  matters  with  him.  I  have  had  a  great  deal  ot 
trouble,  you  see,  and  expenses,  all  that  must  be  taken  into 
account." 

"My  dear  friend,  I  can  depend  upon  you,  and  have  no 
fear  for  the  worthy  Planchet;  his  interests  are  better  in 
your  hands  than  in  his  own.  But  now  that  you  have  noth- 
ing more  to  do  here,  we  will  be  gone,  if  you  please.  You 
can  go  and  thank  his  majesty,  ask  if  he  has  any  commands, 
and  in  six  days  we  may  be  able  to  get  sight  of  the  towers  of 
Notre  Dame." 

"My  friend,  I  am  most^anxious  to  be  off,  and  will  go  ac 
once  and  pay  my  respects  to  the  king." 

"I,"  said  Athos,  "am  going  to  call  upon  some  friends  in 
the  city,  and  shall  be  then  at  your  service." 

"Will  you  lend  me  Grimaud?" 

"With  all  my  heart.     What  do  you  want  to  do  with  him?" 

"Something  very  simple,  and  which  will  not  fatigue  him; 
I  will  only  beg  him  to  take  charge  of  my  pistols,  which  lie 
there  on  the  table  near  that  coffer." 

"Very  well!"  replied  Athos  imperturbably. 

"And  he  will  not  stir,  will  he?" 

"Not  more  than  the  pistols  themselves." 

"Then  I  will  go  and  take  leave  of  his  majesty.  Au 
re  voir  /" 

D'Artagnan  arrived  at  St.  James',  where  Charles  II., 
who  was  busy  writing,  kept  him  in  the  antechamber  a  full 
hour.  While  walking  about  in  the  gallery,  from  the  door 
to  the  window,  from  the  window  to  the  door,  he  thought 
he  saw  a  cloak  like  Athos'  cross  the  vestibule;  but  at  the 
moment  he  was  going  to  ascertain  if  it  were  he,  the  usher 
summoned  him  to  his  majesty's  presence.  Charles  II. 
rubbed  his  hands  at  receiving  the  thanks  of  our  friend. 

"Chevalier,"  said  he,  "you  are  wrong  in  expressing  grati- 
tude to  me;  I  have  not  paid  you  a  quarter  of  the  value  of 
the  history  of  the  box  into  which  you  put  the  brave  general 
— the  excellent  Duke  of  Albemarle,  I  mean."  And  the 
king  laughed  heartily. 

D'Artagnan  did  not  think  it  proper  to  interrupt  his 
majesty,  and  bowed  with  much  modesty. 

"Apropos,"  continued  Charles,  "do  you  think  my  dear 
Monk  has  really  pardoned  you?" 

"Pardoned  me!  yes,  I  hope  so,  sire!" 

"Eh!  but  it  was  a  cruel  trick!  Odds  fish!  to  pack  up  the 
first  personage  of  the  English  revolution  like  a  herring.  In 
your  place,  I  would  not  trust  him,  chevalier." 


THE  VICOMTE   DE    BTtAGELOHNE.  237 

"But,  sire " 

"Yes,  I  know  very  well  that  Monk  calls  you  his  friend. 
But  he  has  too  penetrating  an  eye  not  to  have  a  memory, 
and  too  lofty  a  brow  not  to  be  very  proud,  you  know, 
grande  supercilium." 

"I  certainly  will  learn  Latin,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  him- 
self. 

"But  stop,"  cried  the  merry  monarch;  "I  must  manage 
your  reconciliation;  I  know  how  to  set  about  it;  so " 

D'Artagnan  bit  his  mustache.  "Will  your  majesty  per- 
mit me  to  tell  you  the  truth?" 

"Speak,  chevalier,  speak." 

"Well,  sire,  you  alarm  me  greatly.  If  your  majesty  un- 
dertakes the  affair,  as  you  seem  inclined  to  do,  I  am  a  lost 
man;  the  duke  will  have  me  assassinated." 

The  king  burst  forth  into  a  fresh  roar  of  laughter,  which 
changed  D'Artagnan's  alarm  into  downright  terror. 

"Sire,  I  beg  you  to  allow  me  to  settle  this  matter  myself, 
and  if  your  majesty  has  no  further  need  of  my  services " 

"No,  chevalier.  What,  do  you  want  to  leave  us?"  re- 
plied Charles,  with  a  hilarity  that  grew  more  and  more 
alarming. 

"If  your  majesty  has  no  more  commands  for  me." 

Charles  became  more  serious. 

"One  single  thing.  See  my  sister,  the  Lady  Henrietta. 
Do  you  know  her?" 

"No,  sire,  but — an  old  soldier  like  me  is  not  an  agreeable 
spectacle  for  a  young  and  gay  princess." 

"Ah!  but  my  sister  must  know  you;  she  must,  at  her 
need,  have  you  to  depend  upon." 

"Sire,  every  one  that  is  dear  to  your  majesty  will  be 
sacred  to  me." 

"Very  well!     Parry!     Come  here,  Parry!" 

The  lateral  door  opened,  and  Parry  entered,  his  face 
beaming  with  pleasure  as  soon  as  he  saw  D'Artagnan. 

"What  is  Rochester  doing?"  said  the  king. 

"He  is  upon  the  canal  with  the  ladies,"  replied  Parry. 

"And  Buckingham?" 

"He  is  there  also." 

"Thatis  well.  You  will  conduct  the  chevalier  to  Villiers; 
that  is,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  chevalier;  and  beg  the 
duke  to  introduce  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  to  the  Princess 
Henrietta." 

Parry  bowed,  and  smiled  to  D'Artagnan. 

"Chevalier,"  continued  the  king,  "this  is  your  parting 
audience:  vou  can  afterward  set  out  as  soon  as  you  please." 


238  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Sire,  I  thank  you." 

"But  be  sure  you  make  your  peace  with  Monk!" 

"Oh,  sire " 

"You  know  there  is  one  of  my  vessels  at  your  disposal?" 

"Sire,  you  overpower  me.  I  cannot  think  of  putting 
your  majesty's  officers  to  inconvenience  on  my  account." 

The  king  slapped  D'Artagnan  upon  the  shoulder. 

"Nobody  will  be  inconvenienced  on  your  account,  cheva- 
lier, but  for  that  of  an  embassador  I  am  about  sending  to 
France,  and  to  whom  you  will  serve  willingly  as  a  coinpan 
ion,  I  fancy,  for  you  know  him." 

D'Artagnan  appeared  astonished. 

"He  is  a  certain  Comte  de  la  Fere — he  you  call  Athos/; 
added  the  king,  terminating  the  conversation,  as  he  had 
begun  it,  by  a  joyous  burst  of  laughter.  "Adieu,  chevalier, 
adieu.  Love  me  as  I  love  you."  And  thereupon,  making 
a  sign  to  Parry  to  ask  if  there  were  any  one  waiting  for  him 
in  the  adjoining  closet,  the  king  disappeared  into  that 
closet,  leaving  the  place  to  the  chevalier,  perfectly  aston- 
ished with  this  singular  audience.  The  old  man  took  his 
arm  in  a  friendly  way,  and  led  him  toward  the  garden. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

UPON     THE     CANAL. 

Upon  the  canal  of  waters  of  an  opaque  green,  bordered 
with  marble,  upon  which  time  had  already  scattered  black 
spots  and  tufts  of  mossy  grass,  there  glided  majestically 
a  long  flat  bark,  pavoisee  with  the  arms  of  England,  sur- 
mounted by  a  dais,  and  carpeted  with  long  damasked  stuffs, 
which  trailed  their  fringes  in  the  water.  Eight  rowers, 
leaning  lazily  to  their  oars,  made  it  move  upon  the  canal 
with  the  graceful  slowness  of  the  swans,  which,  disturbed 
in  their  ancient  possessions  by  the  approach  of  the  bark, 
looked  from  a  distance  at  this  splendid  and  noisy  pageant. 
We  say  noisy — for  the  bark  contained  four  players  upon  the 
guitar  and  the  lute,  two  singers,  and  several  courtiers,  all 
sparkling  with  gold  and  precious  stones,  and  showing  their 
white  teeth  in  emulation  of  each  other,  to  please  the  lady 
Henrietta  Stuart,  granddaughter  of  Henry  IV.,  daughter 
of  Charles  I.,  and  sister  of  Charles  II.,  who  occupied  the 
seat  of  honor  under  the  dais  of  the  bark.  We  know  this 
young  princess;  we  have  <^en  her  at  the  Louvre  with  her 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  239 

mother,  wanting  wood,  wanting  bread,  and  fed  by  the 
coadjuteur  and  the  parliament.  She  had,  therefore,  like 
her  brothers,  passed  through  a  troublous  youth;  then,  all 
at  once,  she  had  just  awakened  from  a  long  and  horrible 
dream,  seated  on  the  steps  of  a  throne,  surrounded,  by 
courtiers  and  flatterers.  Like  Mary  Stuart,  on  leaving 
prison,  she  aspired  not  only  for  life  and  liberty,  but  for 
power  and  wealth. 

The  Lady  Henrietta,  in  growing,  had  attained  remarka- 
ble beauty,  which  the  recent  restoration  had.  rendered  cele- 
brated. Misfortune  had  taken  from  her  the  luster  of  pride, 
but  prosperity  had  restored  it  to  her.  She  was  resplendent, 
then,  in  her  joy  and  her  happiness,  like  those  hot-house 
flowers  which,  forgotten  during  a  night  of  .the  first  frosts  of 
autumn,  have  hung  their  heads,  but  which  on  the  morrow, 
warmed  once  more  by  the  atmosphere  in  which  they  were 
born,  rise  again  with  greater  splendor  than  ever.  Villiers, 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  son  of  him  who  played  so  conspicuous 
a  part  in  the  early  part  of  this  history,  Villiers  of  Bucking- 
ham, a  handsome  cavalier,  melancholy  with  women,  a  jester 
with  men,  and  Wilmot,  Lord  Rochester,  a  jester  with  both 
;sexes,  were  standing  at  this  moment  before  the  Lady  Hen- 
rietta, disputing  the  privilege  of  making  her  smile.  As  to 
that  young  and  beautiful  princess,  reclining  upon  a  cushion 
of  velvet  bordered  with  gold,  her  hands  hanging  listlessly 
so  as  to  dip  in  the  water,  she  listened  carelessly  to  the 
i musicians  without  hearing  them,  and  heard  the  two 
courtiers  without  appearing  to  listen  to  them.  This 
ILady  Henrietta — this  charming  creature — this  woman  who 
joined  the  graces  of  France  to  the  beauties  of  England, 
not  having  yet  loved,  was  cruel  in  her  coquetry.  The  smile, 
then,  that  innocent  favor  of  young  girls,  did  not  even 
enlighten  her  countenance;  and  if,  at  times,  she  did  raise 
iher  eyes,  it  was  to  fasten  them  upon  one  or  other  of  the 
cavaliers  with  such  a  fixity  that  their  gallantry,  bold  as  it 
generally  was,  took  the  alarm,  and  became  timid. 

In  the  meantime,  the  boat  continued  its  course,  the  musi- 
cians made  a  great  noise,  and  the  courtiers  began,  like  them, 
to  be  out  of  breath.  Besides,  the  excursion  became  doubt- 
less monotonous  to  the  princess,  for  all  at  once,  shaking  her 
head  with  an  air  of  impatience:  "Come,  gentlemen,  enough 
of  this;  let  us  land." 

"Ah,  madame!"  said  Buckingham,  "we  are  very  unfor- 
tunate! We  have  not  succeeded  in  making  the  excursion 
tgreeable  to  your  royal  highness." 


HO  THE  VICOMTE   BE   ERAGELONNE 

"My  mother  expects  me,"  replied  the  princess;  "and  • 
must  frankly  admit,  gentlemen,  I  am  ennuyee."  And 
jvhile  uttering  this  cruel  word,  Henrietta  endeavored  to 
console  by  a  look  each  of  the  young  men,  who  appeared 
ierrified  at  such  frankness.  The  look  produced  its  effect — 
the  two  faces  brightened;  but  immediately,  as  if  the  royal 
coquette  thought  she  had  done  too  much  for  simple  mortals, 
she  made  a  movement,  turned  her  back  to  both  her  adorers. 
and  appeared  plunged  in  a  reverie  in  which  it  was  evident 
they  had  no  part. 

Buckingham  bit  his  lips  with  anger,  for  he  was  truly  in 
love  with  the  Lady  Henrietta,  and,  in  that  case,  took  every- 
thing in  a  serious  light.  Rochester  bit  his  lips  likewise; 
but  his  wit  always  dominated  over  his  heart;  it  was  purely 
and  simply  to  repress  a  malicious  smile.  The  princess  was 
then  allowing  the  eyes  she  turned  from  the  young  nobles  to 
wander  over  the  green  and  flowery  turf  of  the  park,  when 
she  perceived  Parry  and  D'Artagnan  at  a  distance. 

"Who  is  coming  yonder?"  said  she. 

The  two  young  men  turned  round  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning. 

"Parry,"  replied  Buckingham;  "nobody  but  Parry." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Rochester,  "but  I  think  he 
has  a  companion." 

"Yes,"  said  the  princess,  at  first  with  languor,  but  then: 

"What  mean  those  words,  'Nobody  but  Parry;'  say,  my 
lord?" 

"Because,  madame,"  replied  Buckingham,  piqued,  "be- 
cause the  faithful  Parry,  the  wandering  Parry,  the  eternal 
Parry,  is  not,  I  believe,  of  much  consequence." 

"You  are  mistaken,  duke.  Parry — the  wandering  Parry, 
as  you  call  him — has  always  wandered  for  the  service  of  my 
family,  and  the  sight  of  that  old  man  always  gives  me  satis- 
faction." 

The  Lady  Henrietta  followed  the  usual  progress  of  pretty 
women,  particularly  coquettish  women;  she  passed  from 
caprice  to  contradiction;  the  gallant  had  undergone  the 
caprice,  the  courtier  must  bend  beneath  the  contradictory 
humor.     Buckingham  bowed,  but  made  no  reply. 

"It  is  true,  madame,"  said  Rochester,  bowing  in  his  turn, 
"that  Parry  is  the  model  of  servants;  but,  madame,  he  is  no 
longer  young,  and  we  only  laugh  at  seeing  cheerful  objects. 
Is  an  old  man  a  gay  object?" 

"Enough,  my  lord,"  said  the  princess  coolly;  "the  sub 
ject  of  conversation  is  unpleasant  to  me." 


THE   VICOJITE    DE   BRAGELOSTNE.  241 

Then,  as  if  speaking  to  herself,  "It  is  really  unaccounta- 
ble," said  she,  "how  little  regard  my  brother's  friends  have 
for  his  servants." 

"Ah,  madame,"  cried  Buckingham,  "your  royal  highness 
pierces  my  heart  with  a  poniard  forged  by  your  own  hands." 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  that  speech,  which  is  turned 
so  like  a  French  madrigal,  duke?     I  do  not  understand  it." 

"It  means,  madame,  that  you  yourself,  so  good,  so  charm- 
ing, so  sensible,  you  have  laughed  sometimes — smiled,  I 
should  say — at  the  idle  prattle  of  that  good  Parry,  for  whom 
your  royal  highness  to-day  entertains  such  a  marvelous 
susceptibility." 

"Well,  my  lord,  if  I  have  forgotten  myself  so  far,"  said 
Henrietta,  "you  do  wrong  to  remind  me  of  it."  And  she 
made  a  sign  of  impatience.  "The  good  Parry  wants  to 
speak  to  me,  I  believe;  please  order  them  to  row  to  the 
shore,  my  Lord  Rochester." 

Rochester  hastened  to  repeat  the  princess'  command; 
and  a  moment  after  the  boat  touched  the  bank. 

"Let  us  land,  gentlemen,"  said  Henrietta,  taking  the 
arm  which  Rochester  offered  her,  although  Buckingham  was 
nearer  to  her  and  had  presented  his.  Then  Rochester,  with 
an  ill-dissembled  pride,  which  pierced  the  heart  of  the  un- 
happy Buckingham  through  and  through,  led  the  princess 
across  the  little  bridge  which  the  rowers  had  cast  from  the 
royal  boat  to  the  shore. 

"Which  way  will  your  royal  highness  go?"  asked 
Rochester. 

"You  see,  my  lord,  toward  that  good  Parry,  who  is  wan- 
dering, as  my  Lord  of  Buckingham  says,  and  seeking  me  with 
eyes  weakened  by  the  tears  he  has  shed  over  our  misfor- 
tunes." 

"Good  heavens!"  said  Rochester,  "how  sad  your  royal 
! highness  is  to-day;  we  have,  in  truth,  the  air  of  appearing 
ridiculous  fools  to  you,  madame." 

"Speak  for  yourself,  my  lord,"  interrupted  Buckingham, 
•  with  vexation;  "for  my  part,  I  displease  her  royal  highness 
to  such  a  degree  that  I  appear  absolutely  nothing  to  her." 

Neither  Rochester  nor  the  princess  made  any  reply.  Hen- 
rietta only  urged  her  cavalier  to  a  quicker  pace.  Bucking- 
ham remained  behind,  and  took  advantage  of  this  isolation 
to  give  himself  up  to  such  rage,  in  his  handkerchief,  that 
1  the  cambric  was  bitten  in  holes. 

"Parry,  my  good   Parry,"  said  the   princess,   with   her 


242  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

weak  voice,  "come  hither.     I  see  you  are  seeking  for  me 
and  I  am  waiting  for  you." 

"Ah,  madame,"  said  Rochester,  coming  charitably  to  the 
succor  of  his  companion,  remaining,  as  we  have  said,  be 
hind,  "if  Parry  cannot  see  your  royal  highness,  the  man 
who  follows  him  is  a  sufficient  guide,  even  for  a  blind  man, 
for  he  has  eyes  of  flame.  That  man  is  a  double-lamped 
lantern." 

"Lighting  a  very  handsome  martial  countenance,"  said 
the  princess,  determined  to  be  as  ill-natured  as  possible. 
Rochester  bowed.  "One  of  those  vigorous  soldier's  heads 
seen  nowhere  but  in  France,"  added  the  princess,  with  ths 
perseverance  of  a  woman  sure  of  impunity. 

Rochester  and  Buckingham  looked  at  each  other,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "What  can  be  the  matter  with  her?" 

"See,  my  Lord  of  Buckingham,  what  Parrv  wants,"  said 
Henrietta— "go!" 

The  young  man,  who  considered  this  order  as  a  favor, 
resumed  his  courage,  and  hastened  to  meet  Parry,  who, 
followed  by  D'Artagnan,  advanced  slowly  on  account  of  his 
age.  D'Artagnan  walked  slowly  but  nobly,  as  D'Artagnan, 
doubled  by  the  third  of  a  million,  ought  to  walk,  that  is  to 
say,  without  conceit  or  swagger,  but  without  timidity. 
When  Buckingham,  who  had  been  very  eager  to  comply 
with  the  desire  of  the  princess,  had  stopped  at  a  marble 
bench,  as  if  fatigued  with  the  few  steps  he  had  gone — when 
Buckingham,  we  say,  was  at  a  distance  of  only  a  few  paces 
from  Parry,  the  latter  recognized  him. 

"Ah,  my  lord!"  cried  he,  quite  out  of  breath,  "will  your 
grace  obey  the  king?" 

"In  what,  Monsieur  Parry?"  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
kind  of  coolness  tempered  by  a  desire  of  making  himself 
agreeable  to  the  princess. 

"Well,  his  majesty  begs  your  grace  to  present  this  gentle- 
man to  her  Royal  Highness  the  Princess  Henrietta." 

"In  the  first  place,  what  is  the  gentleman's  name?"  said 
the  duke  haughtily. 

D'Artagnan,  as  we  know,  was  easily  affronted;  the  tone 
of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  displeased  him.  He  surveyed 
the  courtier  from  head  to  foot,  and  two  flashes  beamed  from 
heneath  his  bent  brows.  But  after  a  struggle,  "Monsieur 
lc  Chevalier  d'Artagnan,  my  lord,"  replied  he  quietly. 

"Pardon  me,  monsieur;  that  name  teaches  me  your  name, 
but  nothing  more." 

"That  is'to  say " 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  243 

"That  is  to  say,  I  do  not  know  you." 

"I  am  more  fortunate  than  you,  monsieur,"  replied 
D'Artagnan,  "'for  I  have  had  the  honor  of  knowing  much 
of  your  family,  and  particularly  my  Lord  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, your  illustrious  father." 

"My  father?"  said  Buckingham.  "Well,  I  think  now  .'. 
remember.  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Artagnan,  do  you, 
say?" 

D'Artagnan  bowed.     "In  person,"  said  he. 

"Pardon  me;  but  are  you  one  of  those  Frenchmen  who 
had  secret  relations  with  my  father?" 

"Exactly,  Monsieur  the  Duke,  I  am  one  of  those  French 
men." 

"Then,  monsieur,  permit  me  to  say  that  it  was  strange 
my  father  never  heard  of  you  during  his  lifetime." 

"No,  monsieur;  but  he  heard  of  me  at  the  moment  of  his 
death.     It  was  I  who  sent  to  him,  by  the  hands  of  the  valet 
■  de  chambre  of  Anne  of  Austria,  notice  of  the  dangers  which 
threatened  him;  unfortunately,  it  came  too  late." 

"Never  mind,  monsieur,"  said   Buckingham.     "I  under- 
stand  now,   that,   having  had   the  intention  of   rendering 
i  a  service  to  the  father,  you  are  come  to  claim  the  protec- 
tion of  the  son." 

"In  the  first  place,  my  lord,"  replied  D'Artagnan  phleg- 
matically,  "I  claim  the  protection  of  no  man.  His  Majesty 
Charles  II.,  to  whom  I  have  had  the  honor  of  rendering 
some  services — I  may  tell  you,  my  lord,  my  life  has  been 
passed  in  such  occupations — King  Charles  II.,  then,  who 
wishes  to  honor  me  with  some  kindness,  has  desired  I  shall 
be  presented  to  her  Eoyal  Highness  the  Princess  Henrietta 
his  sister,  to  whom  I  shall,  perhaps,  have  the  good  fortuns 
to  be  of  service  hereafter.  Now,  the  king  knew  that  you; 
at  this  moment,  were  with  her  royal  highness,  and  has  senj 
me  to  you,  by  the  intermission  of  Parry.  There  is  no  other 
mystery.  I  ask  absolutely  nothing  of  you;  and  if  you  will 
not  present  me  to  her  royal  highness,  I  shall  be  compelled 
to  do  without  you,  and  present  myself." 

"At  least,  monsieur,"  said  Buckingham,  determined  to 
have  the  last  word,  "you  will  not  go  back  from  an  explana- 
tion provoked  by  yourself." 

"I  never  go  back,  monsieur,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "As 
you  have  had  relations  with  my  father,  you  must  be  ac- 
quainted with  some  private  details?" 

'"These  relations  are  already  far  removed  from  us,  my 
iord — for  you  were  not  then  born — and  for  some  unfor- 


244  THE  VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

tunate  diamond  studs,  which  I  received  from  his  hands  and 
carried  back  to  France,  it  is  really  not  worth  while  awaken- 
ing so  many  remembrances." 

"Ah,  monsieur!"  said  Buckingham  warmly,  going  up  to 
D'Artagnau,  and  holding  out  his  hand  to  him,  "it  is  you, 
then — you  whom  my  father  fought  for  so  earnestly,  and 
who  had  a  right  to  expect  so  much  from  us?" 

"To  expect,  monsieur;  in  truth,  that  is  my  forte  ;  all  my 
/life  I  have  expected." 

',    At  this  moment,  the  princess,  who  was  tired  of  not  see- 
ing the  stranger  approach  her,  arose  and  came  toward  them 

"At  least,  monsieur,"  said  Buckingham,  "you  shall  not 
wait  for  the  presentation  you  claim  of  me." 

Then  turning  toward  the  princess  and  bowing:  "Ma- 
dame," said  the  young  man,  "the  king,  your  brother,  de- 
sires me  to  have  the  honor  of  presenting  to  your  royal  high- 
ness, Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Artagnan." 

"In  order  that  your  royal  highness  may  have,  at  your 
need,  a  firm  support  and  a  sure  friend,"  added  Parry. 
D'Artagnan  bowed. 

"You  have  still  something  to  say,  Parry,"  replied  Henri- 
etta, smiling  upon  D'Artagnan,  while  addressing  the  old 
servant. 

"Yes,  madame;  the  king  desires  you  to  preserve  relig- 
iously in  your  memory  the  name,  and  to  remember  the 
merit  of  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  to  whom  his  majesty  owes, 
he  says,  the  recovery  of  his  kingdom."  Buckingham,  the 
princess,  and  Rochester  looked  at  one  another. 

"That,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "is  another  little  secret,  of 
which,  in  all  probability,  I  shall  not  boast  to  his  majesty's 
son,  as  I  have  done  to  you  with  respect  to  the  diamond 
studs." 

"Madame,"  said  Buckingham,  "monsieur  has  just,  for 
the  second  time,  recalled  to  my  memory  an  event  which 
excites  my  curiosity  to  such  a  degree  that  I  will  venture 
to  ask  your  permission  to  take  him  on  one  side  for  a  mo- 
ment, to  converse  in  private." 

"Do,  my  lord,"  said  the  princess;  "but  restore  to  the 
sister,  as  quickly  as  possible,  this  friend  so  devoted  to  the 
brother."  And  she  took  the  arm  of  Rochester,  while 
Buckingham  took  that  of  D'Artagnan. 

"Oh!  tell  me,  chevalier,"  said  Buckingham,  "all  that  affair 
of  the  diamonds,  which  nobody  knows  in  England,  not 
even  the  son  of  him  who  was  the  hero  of  it." 

'My  lord,   one  person  alone  had   a   right   to   relate  all 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BKAGELONNB,  245 

that  affair,  as  yon  call  it,  and  that  was  your  father;  he 
thought  proper  to  be  silent.  I  must  beg  you  to  allow  me 
to  be  so  likewise."  And  D'Artagnan  bowed  like  a  man 
upon  whom  it  was  evident  no  entreaties  could  prevail. 

"Since  it  is  so,  monsieur,"  said  Buckingham,  "pardon 
my  indiscretion,  I  beg  you;  and  if,  at  any  time,  I  should 
go  into  France — •"  and  he  turned  round  to  take  a  last  look 
at  the  princess,  who  took  but  little  notice  of  him,  totally 
occupied  as  she  was,  or  appeared  to  be,  with  Rochester. 
Buckingham  sighed. 

"Well?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"I  was  saying  that  if,  any  day,  I  were  to  go  into 
France " 

"You  will  go,  my  lord,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "I  will  answer 
for  that." 

"And  how  so?" 

"Oh,  I  have  strange  powers  of  prediction;  if  I  do  predict 
anything  I  am  seldom  mistaken.  If,  then,  you  do  come  to 
France?" 

"Well,  then,  monsieur,  you,  of  whom  kings  ask  that 
valuable  friendship  which  restores  crowns  to  them,  I  will 
venture  to  beg  of  you  a  little  of  that  great  interest  you 
avowed  for  my  father." 

"My  lord,''  replied  D'Artagnan,  "believe  me,  I  shall 
deem  myself  highly  honored  if,  in  France,  you  remember 
having  seen  me  here.     And  now  permit " 

Then,  turning  toward  the  princess:  "Madame,"  said  he, 
"your  royal  highness  is  a  daughter  of  France;  and  in  that 
quality  I  hope  to  see  you  again  in  Paris.  One  of  my  happy 
days  will  be  that  on  which  your  royal  highness  shall  give 
me  any  command  whatever  which  will  assure  me  that  you 
have  not  forgotten  the  recommendations  of  your  august 
'brother."  And  he  bowed  respectfully  to  the  young  prin- 
cess, who  gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss  with  a  right  royal 
grace. 

"Ah,  madame!"  said  Buckingham,  in  a  subdued  voice, 
"what  can  a  man  do  to  obtain  a  similar  favor  from  your 
royal  highness?" 

"Dame!  my  lord,"  replied  Henrietta,  "ask  Monsieur 
d'Artagnan;  he  will  tell  you." 


246  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

HOW  d'artagnan  drew,  as  a  fairy  would  have  donr 

A    COUNTRY    SEAT    FROM    A    DEAL   BOX. 

The  king's  words  regarding  the  wounded  pride  of  Monk 
had  not  inspired  D'Artagnan  with  a  small  portion  of  appre- 
hension. The  lieutenant  had  had,  all  his  life  the  great  art 
of  choosing  his  enemies;  aud  when  he  had  found  them  im- 
placable and  invincible,  it  was  when  he  had  not  been  able, 
under  any  pretense,  to  make  them  otherwise.  But  points 
of  view  change  greatly  in  the  course  of  a  life.  It  is  a  magic 
lantern,  of  which  the  eye  of  man  every  year  changes  the 
aspect.  It  results  that  from  the  last  day  of  a  year  on  which 
wa  saw  white,  to  the  first  day  of  the  year  on  which  we  shall 
see  black,  there  is  but  the  interval  of  a  single  night. 

Now,  D'Artagnan,  when  he  left  Calais  with  his  ten 
scamps,  would  not  have  hesitated  a  little  in  attacking  a 
Goliath,  a  Nebuchadnezzar,  or  a  Holofernes  as  he  would  in 
crossing  swords  with  a  recruit  or  caviling  with  a  landlady. 
Then  he  resembled  the  sparrow-hawk,  which,  fasting,  at- 
tacks a  ram.  Hunger  blinds.  But  D'Artagnan  satisfied — 
D'Artagnan  rich — D'Artagnan  a  conqueror — D'Artagnan 
proud  of  so  difficult  a  triumph — D'Artagnan  had  too  much 
to  lose  not  to  reckon,  figure  by  figure,  with  probable  bad 
fortune.  His  thoughts  were  employed,  therefore,  all  the 
way  on  the  road  from  his  presentation,  with  one  thing,  and 
that  was,  how  he  should  manage  a  man  like  Monk,  a  man 
whom  Charles  himself,  king  as  he  was,  managed  with  diffi- 
culty; for.  scarcely  established,  the  protected  might  again 
stand  in  need  of  the  protector,  and  would,  consequently, 
not  refuse  him;  such  being  the  case,  the  petty  satisfaction 
of  transporting  M.  d'Artagnan,  or  to  confine  him  in  one  of 
ihe  Middlesex  prisons,  or  to  drown  him  a  little  on  his  pas- 
sage from  Dover  to  Boulogne.  Such  sorts  of  satisfaction 
kings  are  accustomed  to  render  to  viceroys  without  disa- 
greeable consequences.  It  would  not  be  at  all  necessarj 
for  the  king  to  be  active  in  that  contrepartie  of  the  piece  in 
which  Monk  should  take  his  revenge.  The  part  of  the 
king  would  be  confined  to  simply  pardoning  the  Viceroy  of 
Ireland  all  he  should  undertake  against  D'Artagnan. 
Nothing  more  was  necessary  to  place  the  conscience  of  the 
Duke  of  Albemarle  at  rest  than  a  ie  ahsolvo  said  with  a 
.augh,  of  the  scrawl  of  "Charles  the  King,"  traced  at  the 
foot  of  a  parchment;  and  with  these  two  words  pronounced , 


THE  VICOMTE   t»E   BRAGELONNE-  24? 

and  these  two  words  written,  poor  D'Artagnan  was  forever 
crushed  under  the  ruins  of  his  imagination.  And  then,  a 
thing  sufficiently  disquieting  for  a  man  with  such  foresight 
as  our  musketeer,  he  found  himself  alone;  and  even  the 
friendship  of  Athos  could  not  restore  his  confidence,,  Certes, 
if  the  affair  had  only  concerned  a  free  distribution  of  sword- 
•  thrusts,  the  musketeer  would  have  reckoned  upon  his  com- 
panion; but  in  delicate  matters  with  a  king,  when  the 
perhaps  of  an  unlucky  chance  should  arise  in  justification 
of  Monk  or  of  Charles  of  England,  D'Artagnan  knew  Athos 
well  enough  to  be  sure  he  Avould  give  the  best  possible  col- 
oring to  the  loyalty  of  the  survivor,  and  would  content  him- 
self with  shedding  floods  of  tears  on  the  tomb  of  the  dead, 
supposing  the  dead  to  be  his  friend,  and  afterward  compos- 
ing his  epitaph  in  the  most  pompous  superlatives. 

"Decidedly,"  thought  the  Gascon;  and  this  thought  was 
the  result  of  the  reflections  which  he  had  just  whispered  to 
himself,  and  which  we  have  repeated  aloud — "decidedly,  I 
must  be  reconciled  with  Monsieur  Monk,  and  acquire  a 
proof  of  his  perfect  indifference  for  the  past.  If,  as  God 
forbid  it  should  be  so!  he  is  still  sulky  and  reserved  in  the 
expression  of  this  sentiment,  I  will  give  my  money  to  Athos 
to  take  away  with  him;  I  will  remain  in  England  just  long 
enough  to  unmask  him,  then,  as  I  have  a  quick  eye  and  a 
light  foot,  I  will  seize  the  first  hostile  sign;  I  will  decamp, 
or  conceal  myself  at  the  residence  of  my  Lord  of  Bucking- 
ham, who  seems  a  good  sort  of  devil  at  bottom,  and  to 
whom,  in  return  for  his  hospitality,  I  will  then  relate  all 
that  history  of  the  diamonds,  which  can  now  compromise 
nobody  but  an  old  queen,  who  need  not  be  ashamed,  after 
being  the  wife  of  a  poor  creature  like  Mazarin,  of  having 
formerly  been  the  mistress  of  a  handsome  nobleman  like 
Buckingham.  Mordioux!  that  is  the  thing,  and  this  Monk 
shall  not  get  the  better  of  me.  Eh!  and,  besides,  I  have  an 
idea!" 

We  know  that,  in  general,  D'Artagnan  was  not  wanting 
in  ideas;  and  during  his  monologue,  D'Artagnan  buttoned 
his  vest  up  to  the  chin,  and  nothing  excited  his  imagination 
like  this  preparation  for  a  combat  of  any  kind,  called 
accinction  by  the  Romans.  Pie  was  quite  heated  when  he 
reached  the  mansion  of  the  Duke  of  Albemarle.  He  was 
introduced  to  the  viceroy  with  a  promptitude  which  proved 
that  he  was  considered  as  one  of  the  household.  Monk  was 
in  his  business  closet. 

"My  lord,"  said  D'Artagnan,  with  that  expression  of 


248  THE  YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOXNE. 

frankness  which  the  Gascon  knew  so  well  how  to  assume, 
"my  lord,  I  am  come  to  ask  your  grace's  advice." 

Monk,  as  closely  buttoned  up  morally  as  his  antagonist 
was  physically,  replied:  "Ask,  my  friend,"  and  his  counte- 
nance presented  an  expression  not  less  open  than  that  of 
D'Artagnan. 

"My  lord,  in  the  first  place,  promise  me  secrecy  and 
indulgence." 

"I  promise  you  all  you  wish.  What  is  the  matter? 
Speak." 

"It  is,  my  lord,  that  I  am  not  quite  pleased  with  the 
king." 

"Indeed!     And  on  what  account,  my  dear  lieutenant?" 

"Because  his  majesty  gives  way  sometimes  to  pleasantries 
very  compromising  for  his  servants;  and  pleasantry,  my 
lord,  is  a  weapon  that  seriously  Avounds  men  of  the  sword, 
as  we  are." 

Monk  did  all  in  his  power  not  to  betray  his  thought,  but 
D'Artagnan  watched  him  with  too  close  an  attention  not  to 
detect  an  almost  imperceptible  redness  upon  his  face. 
"Well,  now,  for  my  part,"  said  he,  with  the  most  natural 
air  possible,  "I  am  not  an  enemy  to  pleasantry,  my  dear 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan;  my  soldiers  will  tell  you  that  even 
many  times  in  my  camp,  I  listened,  very  indifferently,  and 
with  a  certain  pleasure,  to  the  satirical  songs  which  the 
army  of  Lambert  passed  into  mine,  and  which,  certainly, 
would  have  made  the  ears  of  a  general  more  susceptible 
than  I  am  tingle." 

"Oh,  my  lord,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  know  you  are  a 
complete  man;  I  know  you  have  been,  for  a  long  time, 
placed  above  human  miseries;  but  there  are  pleasantries, 
and  pleasantries  of  a  certain  kind,  which,  as  to  myself.,  have 
the  power  of  irritating  me  beyond  expression." 

"May  I  inquire  what  kind,  my  friend?" 

"Such  as  are  directed  against  my  friends,  or  against  peo- 
ple I  respect,  my  lord." 

Monk  made  a  slight  movement,  but  which  D'Artagnan 
perceived.  "Eh!  and  in  what?"  asked  Monk,  "in  what 
can  the  sjtroke  of  a  pin  which  scratches  another  tickle  your 
skin?     Answer  me  that." 

"My  lord,  I  can  explain  it  to  you  in  one  single  sentence; 
it  concerns  you  " 

Monk  advanced  a  single  step  toward  D'Artagnan.  "Con- 
cerns me?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  and  this  is  what  I  cannot  explain:  but  that  arises. 


THE   VK.'OMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  249 

perhaps,  from  my  want  of  knowledge  of  his  character. 
How  can  the  king  have  the  heart  to  joke  about  a  man  who 
has  rendered  him  so  many  and  such  great  services?  How 
can  one  understand  that  he  should  amuse  himself  in  setting 
by  the  ears  a  lion  like  you  with  a  gnat  like  me?" 

"I  cannot  conceive  that  in  any  way,"  said  Monk. 

"But  so  it  is.     The  king,  who  owed  me  a  reward,  might 
have  rewarded  me  as  a  soldier,  without  contriving  that  his- 
tory of  the  ransom,  which  affects  you,  my  lord." 
'     "No,"  said   Monk,  laughing;  "it  does  not  affect  me  in 
!any  way,  I  can  assure  you." 

"Not  as  regards  me,  I  can  understand;  you  know  me,  my 
lord;  I  am  so  discreet  that  the  grave  would  appear  a  bab- 
bler compared  to  me;  but — do  you  understand,  my  lord?" 

"No,"  replied  Monk,  with  persistent  obstinacy. 

"If  another  knew  the  secret  which  I  know " 

"What  secret?" 

"Eh!  my  lord,  why,  that  unfortunate  secret  of  New- 
castle." 

"Oh!  the  million  of  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere?" 

"No,  my  lord,  no;  the  enterprise  made  upon  your  grace's 
person." 

"It  was  well  played,  chevalier,  that  is  all,  and  no  more  is 
to  be  said  about  it;  you  are  a  soldier,  both  brave  and  cun- 
ning, which  proves  that  you  unite  the  qualities  of  Fabius 
and  Hannibal.  You  employed  your  means,  force  and  cun- 
ning; there  is  nothing  to  be  said  against  that;  I  ought  to 
have  been  more  guarded." 

"Ah!  yes;  I  know,  my  lord,  and  I  expected  nothing  less 
from  your  partiality;  so  that  if  it  were  only  the  abduction 
in  itself,  mordioux !  that  would  be  nothing;  but  there 
are " 

"What?" 

"The  circumstances  of  that  abduction." 

"What  circumstances?" 

"Oh!  you  know  very  well  what  I  mean,  my  lord.'5 

"No,  curse  me  if  I  do." 

"There  is — in  truth,  it  is  difficult  to  speak  it." 

"There  is?" 

"Well,  there  is  that  devil  of  a  box!" 

Monk  colored  visibly.     "Well,  I  have  forgotten  it." 

"Deal  box,"  continued  D'Artagnan,  "with  holes  for  the 
nose  and  mouth.  In  truth,  my  lord,  all  the  rest  was  well; 
but  the  box,  the  box!  decidedly  that  was  a  coarse  joke!" 
Monk  fidgeted  about  in  his  chair.     "And,  notwithstanding 


250  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

that  I  have  done  that,"  resumed  D'Artagnan,  "I,  a  soldie:* 
of  fortune,  it  was  quite  simple,  because  by  the  side  of  that 
action,  a  little  inconsiderate,  I  admit,  which  I  committed, 
but  which  the  gravity  of  the  case  may  excuse,  I  possess 
circumspection  and  reserve." 

"Oh!"  said  Monk,  "believe  me,  I  know  you  well,  Mon- 
seigneur  d'Artagnan,  and  I  appreciate  you." 

D'Artagnan  never  took  his  eyes  off  Monk,  studying  all 
vhich  passed  in  the  mind  of  the  general,  as  he  prosecuted 
hi?  idea.     "But  it  does  not  concern  me,"  resumed  he. 

"Well,  then,  whom  does  it  concern?"  said  Monk,  who 
began  to  grow  a  little  impatient. 

"It  relates  -o  the  king,  who  will  never  restrain  his 
tongue." 

"Well!  and  suppose  he  should  say  all  he  knows?"  said 
Monk,  with  a  degree  of  hesitation. 

"My  lord,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  "do  not  dissemble,  I 
implore  you,  with  a  man  who  speaks  so  frankly  as  I  do. 
You  have  a  right  to  feel  your  susceptibility  excited,  how- 
ever benignant  it  may  be.  What,  the  devil!  it  is  not  the 
place  for  a  man  like  you,  a  man  who  plays  with  crowns  and 
scepters  as  a  Bohemian  plays  with  his  balls;  it  is  not  the 
place  of  a  serious  man,  I  said,  to  be  shut  up  in  a  box  like  a 
curious  object  of  natural  history;  for  you  must  understand 
it  would  make  all  your  enemies  ready  to  burst  with  laugh- 
ter, and  you  are  so  great,  so  noble,  so  generous,  that  you 
must  have  many  enemies.  This  secret  is  enough  to  set  half 
the  human  race  laughing,  if  you  were  represented  in  that 
box.  It  is  not  decent  to  have  the  second  personage  in  the 
kingdom  laughed  at." 

Monk  was  quite  out  of  countenance  at  the  idea  of  seeing 
himself  represented  in  his  box.  Ridicule,  as  D'Artagnan 
had  judiciously  foreseen,  acted  upon  him  in  a  manner  which 
neither  the  chances  of  war,  the  aspirations  of  ambition,  noi 
the  fear  of  death  had  been  able  to  do. 

"Good,"  thought  the  Gascon,  "he  is  frightened;  I  am 
safe." 

"Oh!  as  to  the  king,"  said  Monk,  "fear  nothing,  my 
dear  Monsieur  D'Artagnan,  the  king  will  not  jest  with 
Monk,  I  assure  you!" 

The  flash  of  his  eye  was  intercepted  in  its  passage  by 
D'Artagnan.  Monk  lowered  his  tone  immediately:  "The 
king,"  continued  he,  "is  of  too  noble  a  nature,  the  king's 
heart  is  too  high  to  allow  him  to  wish  ill  to  those  who  do 
him  good." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  251 

""Oh!  certainly/'  cried  D'Artagnan.  '"I  am  entirely  of 
your  grace's  opinion  with  regard  to  his  heart,  but  not  as  to 
his  head — it  is  good,  but  it  is  trifling." 

"The  king  will  not  trifle  with  Monk,  be  assured." 

"Then  you  are  quite  at  ease,  my  lord?" 

"On  that  side,  at  least;  yes,  perfectly." 

"Oh!  I  understand  you;  you  are  at  ease  as  far  as  the 
king  is  concerned?" 

"I  have  told  you  I  was." 

"But  you  are  not  so  much  so  on  my  account?" 

"I  thought  I  had  told  you  that  I  had  faith  in  your  loyalty 
and  discretion." 

"Without  doubt,  without  doubt,  but  you  must  remember 
one  thing " 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  I  was  not  alone,  that  I  had  companions;  and  what 
companions!" 

"Oh!  yes,  I  know  them." 

"And,  unfortunately,  my  lord,  they  know  you  too!" 

"Well?" 

"Well;  they  are  yonder,  at  Boulogne,  waiting  for  me." 

"And  you  fear." 

"Yes,  I  fear  that  in  my  absence —  Parbleu!  if  I  were 
near  them,  I  could  answer  for  their  silence." 

"Was  I  not  right  in  saying  that  the  danger,  if  there  was 
any  danger,  would  not  come  from  his  majesty,  however  dis- 
posed he  may  be  to  joke,  but  from  your  companions,  as 
you  say —  To  be  laughed  at  by  a  king  may  be  tolerable, 
but  by  the  horse-ooys  and  scamps  of  the  army!     Damn  it!" 

"Yes,  I  comprehend,  that  would  be  insupportable;  that 
is  why,  my  lord,  I  came  to  say,  do  you  not  think  it  would 
be  better  that  I  should  set  out  for  France  as  soon  as  poss: 
ble?" 

"Certainly,  if  you  think  your  presence " 

"Would  impose  silence  upon  these  scoundrels?  Oh!  i 
am  sure  of  that,  my  lord." 

"Your  presence  will  not  prevent  the  report  from  spread 
ing,  if  the  tale  has  already  transpired." 

"Oh!  it  has  not  transpired,  my  lord,  I  will  be  bound. 
At  all  events,  be  assured  I  am  determined  upon  one  thing." 

"What  is  that?" 

"To  blow  out  the  brains  of  the  first  who  shall  have  prop- 
agated that  report,  and  of  the  first  who  has  heard  it.  After 
which  I  will  return  to  England  to  seek  an  asylum,  and  per- 
haps employment  with  your  grace." 


352  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOtfNE. 

"Oh,  come  back!  come  back!" 

''Unfortunately,  my  lord,  I  am  acquainted  with  nobody 
here  but  your  grace,  and  if  I  should  no  longer  find  you,  or 
if  you  should  have  forgotten  me  in  your  greatness?'' 

"Listen  to  me,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  replied  Monk; 
"you  are  a  superior  gentleman,  full  of  intelligence  and 
courage;  you  merit  all  the  good  fortune  this  world  can 
bring  you;  come  with  me  into  Scotland,  and  I  swear  to  you 
I  will  create  you  a  destiny  which  all  may  envy." 

"Oh!  my  lord,  that  is  impossible  at  present.  At  present 
I  have  a  sacred  duty  to  perform;  I  have  to  watch  over  your 
glory,  1  have  to  prevent  a  low  joker  from  tarnishing  in  the 
eyes  of  our  contemporaries — who  knows?  in  the  eyes  of 
posterity — the  splendor  of  your  name." 

"Of  posterity,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan?" 

"Doubtless.  It  is  necessary,  as  regards  posterity,  that 
all  the  details  of  that  history  should  remain  a  mystery;  for, 
admit  that  this  unfortunate  history  of  the  deal  box  should 
spread,  and  it  should  be  asserted  that  you  had  not  re-estab- 
lished the  king  loyally,  and  of  your  free  will,  but  in  conse- 
quence of  a  compromise  entered  into  at  Scheveningen  be- 
tween you  two.  It  would  be  in  vain  for  me  to  declare  how 
the  thing  came  about,  for  me  who  knew  I  should  be  be- 
lieved, it  would  be  said  that  I  had  received  my  part  of  the 
cake,  and  was  eating  it." 

Monk  knitted  his  brow.  "Glory,  honor,  probity!"  said 
he,  "you  are  but  words." 

"Mist!"  replied  D'Artagnan;  "nothing  but  mist,  through 
which  nobody  can  see  clearly." 

"Well,  then,  go  to  France,  my  dear  Monsieur  d'Artag- 
nan," said  Monk;  "go,  and  to  render  England  more  attrac- 
tive and  agreeable  to  you,  accept  a  remembrance  of  me." 

"What  now?"  thought  D'Artagnan. 

"I  have  on  the  banks  of  the  Clyde,"  continued  Monk, 
''a  little  house  beneath  trees,  a  cottage,  as  it  is  called  here. 
To  this  house  are  attached  a  hundred  acres  of  land.  Ac- 
cept it  as  a  memorial."  ' 

"Oh,  my  lord " 

"Darnel  you  will  be  there  in  your  own  home,  and  that 
will  be  the  place  of  refuge  you  were  talking  of  just  now." 

"For  me  to  be  obliged  to  your  lordship  to  such  an  ex- 
tent!    Eeally,  your  grace,  I  am  ashamed." 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  monsieur,"  replied  Monk,  with  an 
arch  smile;  "it  is  I  who  shall  be  obliged  to  you.  And," 
pressing  the  hand  of  the  musketeer,  "I  will  go  and  draw  up 
the  deed  of  gift,"  and  he  room. 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGEL02TNE.  253 

D'Artagnan  looked  at  him  as  he  went  out  with  something 
:of  a  pensive  and  even  an  agitated  air. 

"After  all,"  said  he,  ''he  is  a  brave  man.     It  is  only  a 

:  sad  reflection  that  it  is  from  fear  of  me,  and  nob  affection  that 

he  acts  thus.     Well,    I  will   endeavor   that   affection   may 

follow."     Then,  after  an  instant's  deeper  reflection,  "Bah!" 

-Baid  he,  "to  what  purpose?     He  is  an  Englishman."     And 

he  in  his  turn  went  out,  a  little  confused  with  the  combat. 

"So,"  said  he,"  I  am  a  landowner!     But  how  the  devil  am 

IE  to  share  the  cottage  with  Planchet?    Unless  I  give  him 

the  land,  and  I  take  the  chateau,  or  that  he  takes  the  house 

and  I —    Nonsense!     Monsieur  Monk  will  never  allow  me  to 

share  a  house  he  has  inhabited  with  a  grocer.     He  is  too 

! proud  for  that.     Besides,  why  should  I  say  anything  about 

ut  to  him?    It  was  not  with  the  money  of  the  company  I 

(have  acquired  that  property,  it  was  with  my  mother-wit 

i»lone;  it  is  all  mine,  then.     So,  now  I  will   go   and    find 

Athos."     And  he  directed  his  steps  toward  the  dwelling  of 

the  Comte  de  la  Fere. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

HOW    D'ARTAGNAN     REGULATED     THE     "PASSIVE"     OF     THE 
COMPANY   BEFORE   HE   ESTABLISHED   ITS    "ACTIVE." 

"Decidedly,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "I  am  in 
good  vein.  That  star  which  shines  once  in  the  life  of  every 
man,  which  shone  for  Job  and  Iris,  the  most  unfortunate 
of  the  Jews  and  the  poorest  of  the  Greeks,  is  come  at  last 
to  shine  on  me.  I  will  commit  no  folly,  I  will  take  advan- 
tage of  it;  it  comes  quite  late  enough  to  find  me  reasonable." 

He  supped  that  evening,  in  very  good  humor,  with  his 
friend  Athos;  he  said  nothing  to  him  about  the  expected 
donation,  but  he  could  not  forbear  questioning  his  friend, 
while  he  was  eating,  about  country  produce,  sowing,  and 
planting.  Athos  replied^  complacently,  as  he  always  did. 
His  idea  was  that  D'Artagnan  wished  to  become  a  pro- 
prietor; only  he  could  not  help  regretting,  more  than  once, 
the  absence  of  the  lively  humor  and  amusing  sallies  of  the 
cheerful  companion  of  former  days.  In  fact,  D'Artagnan 
was  so  absorbed,  that,  with  his  knife,  he  took  advantage  of 
the  grease  left  at  the  bottom  of  his  plate  to  trace  ciphers 
and  make  additions  of  surprising  rotundity.  The  order,  or 
rather  iicensa,   for  their  embarkation,    arrived    at    x\thos' 


254  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

lodgings  that  evening.  At  the  same  time  this  paper  Vf*s 
remitted  to  the  comte,  another  messenger  brought  to  D'A*- 
tagnan  a  little  bundle  of  parchment  adorned  with  all  the 
seals  employed  in  setting  off  property  deeds  in  England. 
Athos  surprised  him  turning  over  the  leaves  of  these  differ- 
ent acts  which  establish  the  transmission  of  property.  The 
prudent  Monk — others  would  say  the  generous  Monk,  had 
commuted  the  donation  into  a  sale,  and  acknowledged  the 
receipt  of  the  sum  of  fifteen  thousand  livres  as  the  price  of 
the  property  ceded.  The  messenger  was  gone.  D'Artag- 
nan  still  continued  reading.  Athos  watched  him  with  a 
smile.  D'Artagnan,  surprising  one  of  those  smiles  over 
iais  shoulder,  put  the  bundle  into  its  wrapper. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Athos. 

''Oh!  not  at  all,  my  friend,"  replied  the  lieutenant,  "I 
will  tell  you " 

"No,  don't  tell  me  anything,  I  beg  you;  orders  are  things 
so  sacred  that  to  one's  brother,  one's  father,  the  person 
charged  with  such  orders  should  never  open  his  mouth. 
Thus  I,  who  speak  to  you,  and  love  you  more  tenderly  than 
brother,  father,  or  all  the  world " 

"Except  your  Raoul?" 

"I  shall  love  Raoul  still  better  when  he  shall  be  a  man, 
and  I  shall  have  seen  him  develop  himself  in  all  the  phases 
of  his  character  and  his  actions,  as  I  have  seen  you,  my 
friend." 

"You  said,  then,  that  you  had  an  order  likewise,  and 
that  you  would  not  communicate  it  to  me." 

"Yes,  my  dear  D'Artagnan." 

The  Gascon  sighed.  "There  was  a  time,"  said  he,  "in 
which  you  would  have  placed  that  order  open  upon  the 
table,  saying,  'D'Artagnan,  read  this  scrawl  to  Porthos, 
Aramis,  and  me.'  " 

"That  is  true.  Oh!  that  was  the  time  of  youth,  confi- 
dence, the  generous  season  when  the  blood  commands, 
when  it  is  warmed  by  feeling!" 

"Well!  Athos,  will  you  allow  me  to  tell  you?" 

"Speak,  my  friend." 

"That  delightful  time,  that  generous  season,  that  dom- 
ination of  the  heated  blood,  were  all  very  fine  things,  no 
doubt;  but  I  do  not  regret  them  at  all.  It  is  absolutely 
like  the  period  of  studies.  I  have  constantly  met  with  fools 
who  would  boast  of  the  days  of  pensums,  ferules,  and  crusts 
of  dry  bread.  It  is  singular,  but  I  never  loved  all  that; 
for  my  part,  however  active  and  sober  I   might  be  (you 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  255 

mow  if  I  was  so,  Athos),  so  simple  as  I  might  appear  in 
iny  clothes,  I  would  not  the  less  have  preferred  the  braver- 
ies and  embroideries  of  Porthos  to  my  little  porous  cassock, 
yhich  admitted  the  wind  in  winter  and  the  sun  in  summer. 

should  always,  my  friend,  mistrust  him  who  would  pre- 
'end  to  prefer  evil  to  good.  Now,  in  times  past,  all  was 
vil  with  me,  the  times  past  in  which  every  month  found  a 
resh  hole  in  my  cassock  and  in  my  skin,  a  gold  crown  less  in 
jay  poor  purse;  of  that  execrable  time  of  small  beer  and 
-eesaw,  I  regret  absolutely  nothing,  nothing,  nothing,  but 
lur  friendship;  for  within  me  I  have  a  heart,  and  it  is  a 
liracle  that  heart  has  not  been  dried  up  by  the  wind  of 
overty  which  passed  through  the  holes  of  my  cloak,  or 
iierced  by  the  swords  of  all  shapes  which  passed  through 
he  holes  in  my  poor  flesh." 

"Do  not  regret  our  friendship,"  said  Athos;  "that  will 
nly  di?  with  ourselves.  Friendship  is  composed,  above  all 
lings,  of  remembrances  and  habits,  and  if  you  have  just 
ow  made  a  little  satire  upon  mine,  because  I  hesitate  to 
3II  you  the  nature  of  my  mission  to  France " 

"Who!  I?  Oh,  heavens!  if  you  knew,  my  dear  friend, 
low  indifferent  all  the  missions  of  the  world  will  hence- 
orth  become  to  me!"  And  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
larchment  in  his  vast  pocket. 

Athos  rose  from  the  table  and  called  the  host  in  order  to 
lay  the  reckoning. 

"Since  I  have  known  you,  my  friend,"  said  D'Artagnan, 
II  have  never  discharged  the  reckoning.  Porthos  oftez 
ad,  Aramis  sometimes,  and  you,  you  almost  always  drew 
it   your  purse  with   the   dessert.     I   am   now   rich,    and 

iould  like  to  try  if  it  is  heroic  to  pay." 

:'Do  so,"  said  Athos,  returning  his  purse  to  his  pocket. 

The  two  friends  then  directed  their  steps  toward  the 
I  irk,  not,  however,  without  D'Artagnan's  frequently  turn- 
Lg  round  to  watch  the  transport  of  his  dear  crowns.     Night 

id  just  spread  her  thick  veil  over  the  yellow  waters  of  the 
ihames;  they  heard  those  noises  of  casks  and  pulleys,  the 

•  ecursors  of  preparing  to  sail  which  had   so  many  times 

ade  the  hearts  of  the  musketeers  beat  when  the  dangers 
the  sea  were  the  least  of  those  they  were  going  to  face. 

bis  time  they  were  to  embark   on  board  a  large  vessel, 

lljich  awaited  them  at  Grayesend,  and,  Charles  II.,  always 

dicate  in  small  matters,  had  sent  one  of  his  yachts,  with 

/ejve  men  of  his  Scotch  guard,  to  do  honor  to  the  embas- 

dor  he  was  deputing  to  France.     At  midnight  thf  yacht 


256  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

had  deposited  its  passengers  on  board  the  vessel,  and  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  vessel  landed  the  embas- 
sador and  his  friend  before  the  jettee  at  Boulogne.  While 
the  comte,  with  Grimaud,  was  busy  in  procuring  horses  to 
go  straight  to  Paris,  D'Artagnan  hastened  to  the  hostelry 
where,  according  to  his  orders,  his  little  army  was  to  wait 
for  him.  These  gentlemen  were  at  breakfast  upon  oysters, 
fish,  and  aromatized  brandy  when  D'Artagnan  appeared. 
They  were  all  very  gay,  but  not  one  of  them  had  yet  ex- 
ceeded the  bounds  of  reason.  A  hurrah  of  joy  welcomed 
the  general.  "Here  I  am,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "the  cam- 
paign is  ended.  I  am  come  to  bring  each  his  complement 
of  pay,  as  agreed  upon."  Their  eyes  sparkled.  "I  will  lay 
a  wager  there  are  not,  already,  a  hundred  livres  remaining 
in  the  purse  of  the  richest  among  you." 

"That  is  true!"  cried  they  in  chorus. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "then  this  is  the  last 
order.  The  treaty  of  commerce  has  been  concluded,  thanks 
to  our  coup  de  main  which  made  us  masters  of  the  most 
skillful  financier  of  England,  for  now  I  am  at  liberty  to  con- 
fess to  you  that  the  man  we  had  to  carry  off  was  the  treas- 
urer of  General  Monk." 

This  word  treasurer  produced  a  certain  effect  on  hie 
army.  D'Artagnan  observed  that  the  eyes  of  Menneville 
alone  did  not  convince  perfect  faith.  "This  treasurer," 
continued  D'Artagnan,  "I  have  conveyed  to  a  neutral  terri- 
tory, Holland;  I  have  forced  him  to  sign  the  treaty;  I  have 
even  reconducted  him  to  Newcastle,  and  as  he  was  obliged 
to  be  satisfied  with  our  proceedings  toward  him — the  deal 
coffer  being  always  carried  without  jolting,  and  being  lined 
softly,  I  asked  for  a  gratification  for  you.  Here  it  is."  He 
threw  a  respectable-looking  purse  upon  the  cloth;  and  all 
involuntarily  stretched  out  their  hands.  "One  moment,  my 
lambs,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "if  there  are  benefices,  there  are 
also  charges." 

"Oh!  oh!"  murmured  they. 

"We  are  about  to  find  ourselves,  my  friends,  in  a  position 
that  would  not  be  tenable  for  people  without  brains.  I 
speak  plainly:  we  are  between  the  gallows  and  the  Bastile." 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  the  chorus. 

"That  is  easy  to  be  understood.  It  was  necessary  to  ex- 
plain to  General  Monk  the  disappearance  of  his  treasurer. 
I  waited  for  that  purpose  till  the  very  unhoped-for  moment 
of  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II.,  who  is  one  of  mj 
friends." 


THE   VICOMTE   DE    BRAGELONNE.  257 

The  army  exchanged  a  glance  of  satisfaction  in  reply  to  the 
sufficiently  proud  look  of  D'Artagnan.  "The  king  being  re- 
stored, I  restored  Monk  his  man  of  business,  a  little  plucked, 
it  is  true,  but,  in  short,  I  restored  him.  Now,  General 
Monk,  when  he  pardoned  me,  could  not  help  repeating 
these  words  to  me,  which  I  charge  every  one  of  you  to 
engrave  deeply  there,  between  the  eyes,  under  the  vault  of 
the  cranium:  'Monsieur,  the  joke  has  been  a  good  one,  but 
I  don't  naturally  like  jokes;  if  ever  a  word  of  what  you 
have  done'  (you  understand  me,  Monsieur  Menneville)  'es- 
capes from  your  lips,  or  the  lips  of  your  companions,  I 
have,  in  my  government  of  Scotland  and  Ireland,  seven 
hundred  and  forty-one  wooden  gibbets,  of  strong  oak, 
clamped  with  iron,  and  fresh  greased  every  week.  I  will 
make  a  present  of  one  of  these  gibbets  to  each  of  you,  and 
observe  well.  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,'  added  he  (remark  it 
also,  Monsieur  Menneville),  'I  shall  still  have  seven  hun- 
dred and  thirty  left  for  my  private  pleasures.  And  still 
further '  "  " 

"aIi!  ah!"  said  the  auxiliaries,  "is  there  more  still?" 

"One  trouble  more.  'Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  I  expedite 
to  the  King  of  France  the  treaty  in  question,  with  a  request 
that  he  will  cast  into  the  Bastile  provisionally,  and  then 
send  to  me  all  who  have  taken  part  in  this  expedition;  and 
that  is  a  prayer  with  which  the  king  will  certainly  comply.'  " 

A  cry  of  terror  broke  from  all  corners  of  the  table. 

"There!  there!  there!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "this  brave 
Monsieur  Monk  has  forgotten  one  thing,  and  that  is  that  he 
does  not  know  the  name  of  any  one  of  you;  I  alone  know  you, 
and  it  is  not  I,  you  may  well  believe,  who  will  betray  you. 
Why  should  I?  As  for  you,  I  cannot  suppose  you  will  be 
silly  enough  to  denounce  yourselves,  for  then  the  king,  to 
spare  himself  the  expense  of  feeding  and  lodging  you,  will 
send  you  ofE  to  Scotland,  where  the  seven  hundred  and 
forty-one  gibbets  are  to  be  found.  That  is  all,  messieurs 
I  have  not  another  word  to  add  to  what  I  have  had  the 
honor  to  tell  you.  I  am  sure  you  have  understand  me  per- 
fectly well,  have  you  not,  Monsieur  Menneville?" 

"Perfectly,"  replied  the  latter. 

"Now  the  crowns,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "Shut  the  doors," 
he  cried,  and  opened  \he  bag  upon  the  table,  from  which 
rolled  several  line  gold  crowns.  Every  one  made  a  move- 
ment toward  the  floor. 

•"Gently!"  cried  D'Artagnan.  "I  insist  upon  it  nobody 
stoops,  and  then  I  shall  not  be  out  in  nay  reckoning."     He 


258  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOXXE. 

found  it  all  right,  gave  fifty  of  those  splendid  crowns  to 
each  man,  and  received  as  many  benedictions  as  he  be- 
stowed pieces.  "Now,"  said  he  "if  it  were  possible  for  you 
to  reform  a  little,  if  you  could  become  good  and  honest 
citizens " 

"That  is  rather  difficult,"  said  one  of  the  troop. 

"What  then,  captain?"  said  another. 

"Because  I  might  be  able  to  find  you  again,  and  who 
knows?  refreshed  from  time  to  time  by  some  windfall." 
He  made  a  sign  to  Menneville,  who  listened  oO  all  he  said 
with  a  composed  air.  "Menneville,"  said  he,  "come  with 
me.  Adieu,  my  brave  fellows!  I  need  not  recommend 
;ou  to  be  discreet." 

Menneville  followed  him,  while  the  salutations  o^  the 
auxiliaries  were  mingled  with  the  sweet  sound  of  the  money 
clinking  in  their  pockets. 

"Menneville,"  said  D'Artagnan,  when  they  were  once  in 
the  street,  "you  were  not  my  dupe;  beware  of  being  so. 
You  did  not  appear  to  me  to  have  any  fear  of  the  gibbets 
of  Monk,  or  the  Bastile  of  His  Majesty  King  Louis  XIV., 
but  yon  will  do  me  the  favor  of  being  afraid  of  me.  Then 
listen:  at  the  smallest  word  that  shall  escape  you,  I  will 
kill  you  as  I  would  a  fowl.  I  have  absolution  from  our 
holy  father  the  pope  in  my  pocket." 

"I  assure  you  I  know  absolutely  nothing,  my  dear  Mon- 
sieur d'Artagnan,  and  that  your  words  have  all  been  to  me 
so  many  articles  of  faith." 

"I  was  quite  sure  you  were  an  intelligent  fellow,"  sa:ci 
the  musketeer;  "I  have  tried  you  for  a  length  of  time. 
These  fifty  gold  crowns  which  I  give  you  more- than  the 
rest  will  prove  the  estimation  I  hold  you  in.     Take  them." 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  said  Menneville. 

"With  that  sum  you  can  really  become  an  honest  man," 
replied  D'Artagnan,  in  the  most  serious  tone  possible.  "It 
would  be  disgraceful  for  a  mind  like  yours,  and  a  name  you 
no  longer  dare  to  bear,  to  sink  forever  under  the  rust  of  an 
evil  life.  Become  a  gallant  man,  Menneville,  and  live  for  a 
year  upon  thos^  hundred  gold  crowns;  it  is  a  good  pro- 
vision; twice  that  of  a  high  officer.  In  a  yea.'-  come- to  me, 
and  mordioux!  I  will  make  something  of  you." 

Menneville  swore,  as  his  comrades  had  sworn,  that  he 
would  be  as  mute  as  a  tomb.  And  yet  some  one  must  have 
spok3n;  and  as,  to  a  certainty,  it  was  not  one  of  the  nine 
companions,  as  equally  certainly  it  was  not  Menneville,  it 
must    have   been    D'Artagnan,    who.    in   his   quality   of  a. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  259 

Gascon,  had  his  tongue  very  near  to  his  lips.  For,  in 
short,  if  it  was  not  he,  who  could  it  be?  And  bow  can  it 
be  explained  that  the  secret  of  the  deal  coffer  pierced  with 
holes  should  come  to  our  knowledge,  and  in- so  complete  a 
fashion  that  we  have,  as  has  been  seen,  related  the  history 
of  it  in  all  its  details  the  most  intimate;  details  which,  be- 
sides, throw  a  light  as  new  as  unexpected  upon  all  that 
portion  of  the  history  of  England  which  has  been  left,  up 
to  the  present  day,  completely  in  the  shade  by  the  histo- 
rians of  our  neighbors? 


CHAPTER    XXXVIIL 

IK  WHICH  IT  IS  SEEN  THAT  THE  FRENCH  GROCER  HAD 
ALREADY  BEEN  ESTABLISHED  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

His  accounts  once  settled,  and  his  recommendations 
made,  D'Artagnan  thought  of  nothing  but  regaining  Paris 
as  soon  as  possible.  Athos,  on  his  part,  was  anxious  to 
reach  home  and  to  repose  a  little.  However  entire  may 
remain  the  character  and  the  man  after  the  fatigues  of  a 
voyage,  the  traveler  perceives  with  pleasure,  at  the  close  of 
the  day — even  though  the  day  has  been  a  fine  one,  that 
night  is  approaching,  and  will  bring  a  little  sleep  with  it. 
So,  from  Boulogne  to  Paris,  jogging  on  side  by  side,  the  two 
friends,  in  some  degree  absorbed  each  in  his  individual 
thoughts,  conversed  of  nothing  sufficiently  interesting  for 
us  to  intrude  upon  our  readers  with.  Each  of  them,  given 
up  to  his  personal  reflections,  and  constructing  his  future 
after  his  own  fashion,  was  above  all  anxious  to  abridge  the 
distance  by  speed.  Athos  and  D'Artagnan  arrived  at  the 
barriers  of  Paris  on  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  after 
leaving  Boulogne. 

"Where  are  you  going,  my  friend?"  asked  Athos.  "I 
shall  direct  my  course  straight  to  my  hotel." 

"And  I  straight  to  my  partner's." 

"To  Planchet's?" 

"Good  Lord,  yes;  at  the  Pilon  d'Or." 

"Well,  but  shall  we  not  meet  again?" 

"If  you  remain  in  Paris,  yes;  for  I  shall  stay  here." 

"No;  after  having  embraced  Raoul,  with  whom  I  have 
appointed  a  meeting  at  my  hotel,  I  shall  set  out  immediately 
for  La  Fere." 


260  THE  YICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONKE. 

"Well,  adieu,  then,  dear  and  true  friend. " 

"Au  revoir!  I  would  rather  say,  for  why  can  you  not 
come  and  live  with  me  at  Blois?  You  are  free,  you  are  rich. 
I  will  purchase  for  you,  if  you  like,  a  handsome  property  in 
the  environs  of  Cheveray  or  of  Bracieux.  On  the  one  side 
you  will  have  the  finest  woods  in  the  world,  which  join  those 
of  Chambord;  on  the  other,  admirable  marshes.  You  who 
love  sporting,  and  who,  whether  you  admit  it  or  not,  are  a 
poet,  my  dear  friend,  you  will  find  pheasants,  ravl,  and 
teal,  without  reckoning  sunsets  and  excursions  on  the  waterP 
to  make  you  fancy  yourself  Kimrod  and  Apollo  themselves. 
Awaiting  the  acquisition,  you  can  live  at  La  Fere,  and  we 
will  go  together  to  fly  our  hawks  among  the  vines,  as  Louis 
XIII.  used  to  do.  That  is  a  quiet  amusement  for  old  fel- 
lows like  us." 

D'Artagnan  took  the  hands  of  Athos  in  his  own.  "Dear 
comte,"  said  he,  "I  will  neither  say  'Yes'  nor  'No/  Let 
me  pass  in  Paris  the  time  necessary  for  the  regulations  of 
my  affairs,  and  accustom  myself,  by  degrees,  to  the  heavy 
and  glittering  idea  which  is  beating  in  my  brains  and  dazzles 
them.  I  am  rich,  do  you  see,  and  from  this  moment  till 
the  time  I  have  acquired  the  habit  of  being  rich,  I  know 
myself,  and  1  shall  be  an  unsupportable  animal.  Now,  I  am 
not  enough  of  a  fool  to  wish  to  appear  to  have  lost  my  wits 
before  a  friend  like  you,  Athos.  The  habit  is  handsome,  the 
habit  is  richly  gilded,  but  it  is  new,  and  does  not  seem  to 
fit  me." 

Athos  smiled.  "So  be  it,"  said  he.  "But  apropos  of 
this  habit,  dear  D'Artagnan,  will  you  allow  me  to  offer  you 
a  little  advice?" 

"Yes,  willingly." 

"Y/ou  will  not  be  angry?" 

■'Proceed." 

"When  wealth  falls  to  any  one  late  or  all  at  once,  that 
any  one,  in  order  not  to  change,  will  most  likely  become  a 
miser;  that  is  to  say,  will  not  spend  much  more  money  than 
he  had  done  before;  or  else  become  a  prodigal,  and  contract 
so  many  debts  as  to  become  poor  again." 

"Oh!  but  what  you  say  looks  very  much  like  a  sophism, 
my  deal  philosophic  friend." 

"I  do  not  think  so.     Will  you  become  a  miser?" 

"No,  pardieu!  I  was  one  already,  having  nothing.  Let 
us  change." 

"Then  be  prodigal." 

'Still    less,    mordiouz '     Debts  terrify    me.     Creditors 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  261 

appear  to  me  by  anticipation,  those  devils  who  turn  the 
damned  upon  the  gridirons;  and  as  patience  is  not  my 
dominant  virtue,  I  am  always  tempted  to  thrash  those 
devils." 

"You  are  the  wisest  man  I  know,  and  stand  in  no  need 
of  counsel  from  any  one.  Great  fools  must  they  be  who 
think  they  have  anything  to  teach  you.  But  we  are  not  at 
the  Rue  St.  Honore?" 

"Yes,  dear  Athos." 

"Look  yonder,  on  the  left,  that  small,  long  white  hous«> 
is  the  hotel  at  which  I  lodge.  You  may  observe  that  it  has 
but  two  stages;  I  occupy  the  first;  the  other  is  let  to  an  officer 
whose  duties  oblige  him  to  be  absent  eight  or  nine  months 
in  the  year,  so  1  am  in  that  house  as  at  my  own  home,  with- 
out the  expense." 

"Oh!  how  well  you  manage,  Athos.  What  order  and 
what  liberality!  They  are  what  I  wish  to  unite.  But  of 
what  use  trying;  that  comes  from  birth,  and  cannot  be 
acquired." 

"You  are  a  flatterer!  "Well!  adieu,  dear  friend.  Apropos, 
remember  me  to  Master  Planchet,  he  was  alway  a  lad  of 
spirit." 

"And  of  heart,  too,  Athos.     Adieu." 

And  they  separated.  During  all  this  conversation,  D'Ar- 
tagnan  had  not  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of  a  certain  pack- 
horse,  in  whose  panniers,  under  some  hay,  were  spread  the 
sacoches  (messengers'  bags)  with  the  portmanteau.  Nine 
o'clock  was  striking  at  St.  Mine;  Planchet's  lads  were  shut- 
ting up  his  shop.  D'Artagnan  stopped  the  postilion  who 
rode  the  pack-horse  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards, 
under  a  pent-house,  and  calling  one  of  Planchet's  boys, 
he  desired  him  not  only  to  take  care  of  the  two  horses,  but 
to  watch  the  postilion;  after  which  he  entered  the  shop  of 
the  grocer,  who  had  just  finished  supper,  and  who,  in  his 
little  private  room  was,  with  a  degree  of  anxiety,  consulting 
the  calendar,  from  which,  every  evening,  he  scratched  out 
the  day  that  was  past.  At  the  moment  when  Planchet, 
according  to  his  daily  custom,  with  the  back  of  his  pen, 
erased  another  day,  D'Artagnan  kicked  with  his  feet  at  the 
door,  and  the  blow  made  his  steel  spur  jingle.  "Oh!  good 
Lord!"  cried  Planchet.  The  worthy  grocer  could  say  no 
more;  he  perceived  his  partner,  D'Artagnan  entered  with 
a  bent  back  and  a  dull  eye;  the  Gascon  had  an  idea  with 
regard  to  Planchet. 

"Good  God!"  thought  the  grocer,  looking  earnestly  at  the 
traveler,"he  looks  verv  sad!"      The  musketeer  sat  down. 


262  THE   VICOMTE  DE  BEAGELONNE. 

"My  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan!"  said  Planchet,  with  a 
horrible  palpitation  of  the  heart.  "Here  you  are!  and 
your  health?" 

"Tolerably  good,  Planchet!  tolerably  good!"  said  D'Av- 
tagnan,  with  a  profound  sigh. 

"You  have  not  been  wounded,  I  hope?" 

"Pugh!" 

"Ah!  I  see,"  continued  Planchet,  more  and  more  alarmed, 
"the  expedition  has  been  a  trying  one?" 

"Yes,"  said  D'Artagnan.  A  shudder  ran  through  the 
whole  frame  of  Planchet.  "I  should  like  to  have  something 
to  drink,"  said  the  musketeer,  raising  his  head  piteously. 

Planchet  ran  to  the  cupboard,  and  poured  D'Artagnan 
out  some  wine  in  a  large  glass.  D'Artagnan  examined  the 
bottle. 

"What  wine  is  that?"  asked  he. 

"Alas!  that  which  you  prefer,  monsieur,"  said  Planchet; 
"that  good  old  Anjou  wine,  which  was  one  day  nearly  cost- 
ing us  all  so  dear." 

"Ah!"  replied  D'Artagnan,  with  a  melancholy  smile, 
"Ah!  my  poor  Planchet!  ought  I  still  to  drink  good  wine?" 

"Come,  my  dear  master,"  said  Planchet,  making  a  super- 
human effort,  while  all  his  contracted  muscles,  his  paleness, 
and  his  trembling  betrayed  the  most  acute  anguish.  "Come! 
I  have  been  a  soldier,  and  consequently  have  some  courage; 
do  not  make  me  linger,  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan;  our 
money  is  lost,  is  it  not?" 

Before  he  answered  D'Artagnan  took  time  which  apjDeared 
an  age  to  the  poor  grocer.  Nevertheless,  he  did  nothing 
but  turn  about  upon  his  chair. 

"And  if  that  were  the  case,"  said  he  slowly,  moving  his 
head  up  and  down,  "if  that  were  the  case,  what  would  you 
say,  my  dear  friend?" 

Planchet,  from  being  pale,  turned  yellow.  It  might  have 
been  thought  he  was  going  to  swallow  his  tongue,  so  full 
became  his  throat,  so  red  were  his  eyes. 

"Twenty  thousand  livres!"  muttered  he.  "Twenty 
thousand  livres,  though " 

D'Artagnan,  with  his  neck  elongated,  his  legs  stretched 
out,  and  his  hands  hanging  listlessly,  looked  like  a  statue 
of  discouragement.  Planchet  tore  up  a  sigh  from  the  deep- 
est cavities  of  his  breast. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  see  how  it  is.  Let  us  be  men!  It 
is  all  over,  is  it  not?  The  principal  thing  is,  monsieur. 
that  you  have  saved  your  life." 


THE    VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  263 

"Doubtless!  doubtless — life  is  something — but  I  am 
ruined!" 

"Cordieu!  monsieur!"  said  Planchet;  "if  it  is  so,  we  must 
not  despair  for  that;  you  shall  become  a  grocer  with  me; 
I  will  make  you  my  partner,  we  will  share  the  profits,  and  if 
there  should  be  no  profits,  well,  why,  then  we  will  share 
the  almonds,  raisins,  and  prunes,  and  we  will  nibble  together 
the  last  quarter  of  Dutch  cheese." 

D'Artagnan  could  hold  out  no  longer.  " Mordioux /" 
cried  he,  with  great  emotion,  "thou  art  a  brave  fellow,  by 
my  honor,  Planchet.  You  have  not  been  playing  comedy, 
have  you?  You  have  not  seen  the  pack-horse  with  ths 
sacoches  under  the  shed  yonder?" 

"What  horse?  What  sacoches  ?'■'  said  Planchet,  whose 
trembling  heart  began  to  suggest  that  D'Artagnan  was 
mad. 

"Why,  the  English  bags,  mordioux  J"  said  D'Artagnan, 
all  radiant,  quite  transfigured. 

"Ah!  good  God!"  articulated  Planchet,  drawing  back 
before  the  dazzling  fire  of  his  looks. 

"Imbecile!"  cried  D'Artagnan,  "you  think  me  mad. 
Mordioux  !  on  the  contrary,  never  was  my  head  more  clear, 
or  my  heart  more  joyous.  To  the  sacoches,  Planchet,  to  the 
sacoches!" 

"But  to  what  sacoches,  mon  Dieu  ?" 

D'Artagnan  pushed  Planchet  toward  the  window.  "Un- 
der the  pent-house  yonder,  don't  you  see  a  horse?" 

"Yes." 

"Don't  you  see  how  his  back  is  laden?" 

"Yes,  yes!" 

"Don't  you  see  your  lad  chattering  with  the  postilion?" 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!" 

"Well,  you  know  the  name  of  that  lad,  because  he  is  your 
■)wn.     Call  him." 

"Abdon!  Abdon!"  vociferated  Planchet  from  the 
window. 

"Bring  the  horse!"  shouted  D'Artagnan. 

"Bring  the  horse!"  screamed  Planchet. 

"Now  give  ten  livres  to  the  postilion,"  said  D'Artagnan, 
m  the  tone  he  would  have  employed  in  commanding  a 
maneuver;  "two  lads  to  bring  up  the  two  first  sacoches,  two 
to  bring  up  the  two  last,  and,  move,  mordioux!  be  alive  !" 

Planchet  precipitated  himself  down  the  stairs  as  if  the 
devil  had  been  at  his  heels.  The  moment  after,  the  lads 
ascended   the  staircase,   bending    beneath    their    burden. 


<>64  THE    TICOMTE    DE    RRATtELOXXE. 

D'Artagnan  sent  them  off  to  their  garrets,  carefully  closed 
th<>  door,  and  addressing  Planchet,  who,  in  his  turn,  looked 
a  little  wild: 

"Now,  we  are  by  ourselves,"  said  he;  and  he  spread  upon 
the  floor  a  large  cover,  and  emptied  the  first  soroche  into  it. 
Planchet  did  the  same  with  the  second;  then  D'Artagnan, 
all  in  a  tremble,  let  out  the  precious  bowels  of  the  third 
with  a  knife.  When  Planchet  heard  the  provoking  sound 
of  the  silver  and  gold — when  he  saw  bubbling  out  of  the 
bags  the  shining  crowns,  which  glittered  like  fish  from  the 
sweep-net — when  he  felt  himself  plunging  his  hands  up  to 
the  elbow  in  that  still  rising  tide  of  yellow  and  silver  pieces, 
a  giddiness  seized  him,  and  he  sank,  like  a  man  who  is 
thunder-struck,  heavily  down  upon  the  enormous  heap, 
which  his  weight  caused  to  roll  away  in  all  directions. 
Planchet,  suffocated  with  joy,  had  lost  his  senses.  D'Ar- 
tagnan threw  a  glass  of  white  wine  in  his  face,  which,  in- 
continently, recalled  him  to  life. 

"Ah!  good  heavens!  good  heavens!  good  heavens!"  said 
Planchet,  wiping  his  mustache  and  beard. 

At  that  time,  as  they  do  now,  grocers  wore  the  cavalier 
mustache  and  the  lansquenet  beard,  only  the  bains  cV argent, 
already  become  rare  in  those  days,  have  become  almost 
unknown  now. 

" Mordioux!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "there  are  a  hundred 
thousand  livres  for  you,  partner.  Draw  your  share,  if  you 
please,  and  I  will  draw  mine." 

"Oh!  the  lovely  sum!  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  the  lovely 
sum!" 

"I  confess  that,  half  an  hour  ago,  I  regretted  that  I  had 
to  give  you  so  much;  but  I  now  no  longer  regret  it;  thou 
art  a  brave  grocer,  Planchet.  There,  let  us  close  our  ac- 
counts, for,  as  they  say,  short  reckonings  make  long 
friends." 

"Oh!  rather,  in  the  first  place,  tell  me  the  whole  history," 
said  Planchet;  "that  must  be  better  than  the  money." 

"Ma  foi  /"  said  D'Artagnan,  stroking  his  mustache,  "I 
can't  say  no;  and   if  ever  the  historian  turns  to  me  for  in 
formation,  he   will   be   able   to   say    he  has  not  dipped  his 
bucket  into  a  dry   spring.     Listen,  then,  Planchet,  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it." 

"And  I  will  build  piles  of  crowns,"  said  Planchet 
"Commence,  my  dear  master." 

"Well,  this  is  it,"  said  D'Artagnan,  drawing  breath. 

"And  that  is  it,"  said  Planchet,  picking  up  his  first 
handful  of  crowos. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE,  265 

CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

mazarin's  gaming  party. 

In  a  large  chamber  of  the  Palais  Royal,  covered  with  a 
dark-colored  velvet,,  which  threw  into  strong  relief  the 
gilded  frames  of  a  great  number  of  magnificent  pictures,  on 
the  evening  of  the  arrival  of  the  two  Frenchmen,  the  whole 
sourt  was  assembled  before  the  alcove  of  M.  le  Cardinal  de 
Mazarin,  who  gave  a  party,  for  the  purpose  of  play,  to  the 
king  and  queen.  A  small  screen  separated  three  prepared 
tables.  At  one  of  these  tables  the  king  and  the  two  queens 
were  seated.  Louis  XIV.,  placed  opposite  to  the  young 
aueen,  his  wife,  smiled  upon  her  with  an  expression  of  real 
happiness.  Anne  of  Austria  held  the  cards  against  the 
cardinal,  and  her  daughter-in-law  assisted  her  in  the  game, 
when  she  was  not  engaged  in  smiling  at  her  husband.  As 
for  the  cardinal,  who  was  reclining  on  his  bed,  his  cards 
were  held  by  the  Comtesse  de  Soissons,  and  he  watched 
them  with  an  incessant  look  of  interest  and  cupidity. 

The  cardinal  had  been  painted  by  Bernouin;  but  the  rouge 
which  glowed  only  on  his  cheeks,  threw  into  stronger  con- 
trast the  sickly  pallor  of  his  countenance  and  the  shining 
yellow  of  his  brow.  His  eyes  alone  acquired  a  more  lively 
expression  from  this  auxiliary,  and  upon  those  sick  man's 
eyes  were,  from  time  to  time,  turned  the  uneasy  looks  of 
the  king,  the  queen,  and  the  courtiers.  The  fact  is,  that 
the  two  eyes  of  the  Signor  Mazarin  were  the  stars  more  or 
less  brilliant  in  which  the  France  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury read  its  destiny  every  evening  and  every  morning. 
Monseigneur  neither  won  nor  lost;  he  was,  therefore, 
neither  gay  nor  sad.  It  was  a  stagnation  in  which,  full  of 
pity  for  him,  Anne  of  Austria  would  not  have  willingly  left 
him;  but  in  order  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  sick  man 
by  some  brilliant  stroke  she  must  have  either  won  or  lost. 
To  win  would  hav3  been  dangerous,  because  Mazarin  would 
have  changed  his  indifference  for  an  ugly  grimace;  to  lose 
would  likewise  have  been  dangerous,  because  she  must  have 
cheated,  and  the  infanta,  who  watched  her  game,  would, 
doubtless,  have  exclaimed  against  her  partiality  for  Mazarin. 
Profiting  by  this  calm,  the  courtiers  were  chatting.  When 
not  in  a  bad  humor,  M.  de  Mazarin  was  a  very  delonnaire 
prince,  and  he,  who  prevented  nobody  from  singing,  pro- 
vided they  paid,  was  not  tyrant  enough  to  prevent  people 
from  talking,  provider1  they  made  up  their  minds  to  lose. 


26G  THE  VTCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

They  were  chatting  then.  At  the  first  table  the  king's 
younger  brother,  Philip,  Due  d'Anjou,  was  admiring  his 
handsome  face  in  the  glass  of  a  box.  His  favorite,  the 
Chevalier  de  Lorraine,  leaning  over  the  fauteuil  of  the 
prince,  was  listening,  with  secret  envy,  to  the  Comte  de 
Guiche,  another  of  Philip's  favorites,  who  was  relating  in 
choice  terms  the  various  vicissitudes  of  fortune  of  the  royal 
adventurer  Charles  II.  He  told,  as  so  many  fabulous  events, 
all  the  history  of  his  peregrinations  in  Scotland,  and  his 
terrors  when  the  enemy's  party  was  so  closely  on  his  track', 
of  nights  passed  in  trees,  and  days  passed  in  hunger  and 
combats.  By  degrees  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  king 
interested  his  auditors  so  greatly  that  the  play  languished, 
even  at  the  royal  table,  and  the  young  king,  with  a  pensive 
look  and  downcast  eye,  followed,  without  appearing  to  give 
any  attention  to  it,  the  smallest  details  of  this  Odyssey, 
very  picturesquely  related  by  the  Comte  de  Guiche. 

The  Comtesse  de  Soissons  interrupted  the  narrator,  "Con- 
fess, comte,  you  are  inventing." 

"Madame,  I  am  repeating  like  a  parrot  all  the  histories 
related  to  me  by  different  Englishmen.  I  am  compelled, 
to  my  shame,  to  say  I  am  as  textual  as  a  copy." 

"Charles  II.  would  have  died  before  he  could  have  en 
dured  all  that." 

Louis  XIV.  raised  his  intelligent  and  proud  head.  "Ma- 
dame," said  he,  in  a  grave  tone,  still  partaking  something 
of  the  timid  child,  "Monsieur  le  Cardinal  will  tell  you  that 
in  my  minority,  the  affairs  of  France  have  been  in  jeopardy, 
and  that  if  I  had  been  older,  and  obliged  to  take  sword  in 
hand,  it  would  sometimes  have  been  for  the  evening  meal." 

"Thanks  to  God,"  said  the  cardinal,  who  spoke  for  the 
first  time,  "your  majesty  exaggerates,  and  your  supper  has 
always  been  ready  with  that  of  your  servants." 

The  king  colored. 

"Oh!"  cried  Philip  inconsiderately,  from  his  place,  and 
without  ceasing  to  admire  himself,  "I  recollect  once,  at 
Milan,  the  supper  was  laid  for  nobody,  and  that  the  king 
eat  two-thirds  of  a  slice  of  bread,  and  abandoned  to  me  the 
other  third." 

The  whole  assembly,  seeing  Mazarin  smile,  began  to 
laugh.  Courtiers  flatter  kings  with  the  remembrance  of 
past  distresses,  as  with  the  hopes  of  future  good  fortune. 

"It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  the  crown  of  France  has 
always  remained  firm  upon  the  heads  of  its  kings,"  Anne  of 
Austria  hastened  to  say,  "and  that  it  has  fallen  off  from 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONSTE.  267 

that  of  the  King  of  England;  and  when,  by  chance,  that 
crown  oscillated  a  little — for  there  are  throne-quakes  as 
well  as  earth-quakes — every  time,  I  say,  that  rebellion 
threatened  it,  a  good  victory  restored  tranquillity." 

"With  a  few  gems  added  to  the  crown,"  said  Mazarin. 

The  Comte  de  Guiche  was  silent;  the  king  composed  his 
countenance,  and  Mazarin  exchanged  looks  with  Anne  of 
Austria,  as  if  to  thank  her  for  her  intervention. 

"It  is  of  no  consequence,"  said  Philip,  smoothing  his 
hair;  "my  cousin  Charles  is  not  handsome,  but  he  is  very 
brave,  and  has  fought  like  a  Eeister;  and  if  he  continues  to 
fight  thus,  no  doubt  he  will  finish  by  gaining  a  battle,  like 
Rocroy " 

"He  has  no  soldiers,"  interrupted  the  Chevalier  de  Lor- 
raine. 

"The  King  of  Holland,  his  alley,  will  give  him  some.  I 
would  willingly  have  given  him  some  if  I  had  been  King  of 
France." 

Louis  XIV.  blushed  excessively.  Mazarin  affected  to  be 
more  attentive  to  his  game  than  ever. 

"By  this  time,"  resumed  the  Comte  de  Cuiche,  "the  for- 
tune of  this  unhappy  prince  is  decided.  If  he  has  been 
deceived  by  Monk,  he  is  ruined.  Imprisonment,  perhaps 
death,  will  finish  what  exile,  battles,  and  privations  have 
commenced." 

Mazarin's  brow  became  clouded. 

"Is  it  certain,"  said  Louis  XIV.,  "that  His  Majesty 
Charles  II.  has  quitted  the  Hague?" 

"Quite  certain,  your  majesty,"  replied  the  young  man; 
"my  father  has  received  a  letter  containing  all  the  details; 
it  is  even  known  that  the  king  has  landed  at  Dover;  some 
fishermen  saw  him  entering  the  port;  the  rest  is  still  a 
mystery." 

"I  should  like  to  know  the  rest,"  said  Philip  im- 
petuously. 

"You  know — you,  my  brother." 

Louis  XIV.  colored  again.  That  was  the  third  time 
within  an  hour.  "Ask  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,"  replied  he, 
in  a  tone  which  made  Mazarin,  Anne  of  Austria,  and  every- 
body else  open  their  eyes. 

"Which  means,  my  son,"  said  Anne  of  Austria,  laughing, 
"that  the  king  does  not  like  affairs  of  state  to  be  talked  of 
out  of  the  council." 

Philip  received  the  reprimand  with  a  good  grace,  and 
bowed,  first  smiling  at  his  brother,  and  then  at  his  mother. 


268  THE   VICOMTE   DE  BRACJELOXXE. 

But  Mazarin  saw  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  that  a  group 
was  about  to  be  formed  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  that 
the  Due  d'Anjou,  with  the  Comte  de  Guiche  and  the  Chev- 
alier de  Lorraine,  prevented  from  talking  aloud,  might  say, 
in  a  whisper,  what  it  was  not  convenient  should  be  said,  lie 
was  beginning  then  to  dart  at  them  glances  full  of  mistrust 
and  uneasiness,  inviting  Anne  of  Austria  to  throw  perturba- 
tion amid  the  unlawful  assembly,  when,  suddenly,  Ber 
nouin,  entering  under  the  tapestry  of  the  bedroom,  whis 
pered  in  the  ear  of  Mazarin,  "Monseigneur,  an  envoy  from 
His  Majesty  the  King  of  England." 

Mazarin  could  not  help  exhibiting  a  slight  emotion,  which 
was  perceived  by  the  king.  To  avoid  being  indiscreet,  still 
less  than  not  to  appear  useless,  Louis  XIV.  rose  imme- 
diately, and  approaching  his  eminence  wished  him  good- 
night. All  the  assembly  had  risen  with  a  great  noise  of 
rolling  of  chairs  and  tables  being  pushed  away. 

"Let  everybody  depart  by  degrees,"  said  Mazarin,  in  a 
whisper  to  Louis  XIV.,  "and  be  so  good  as  to  excuse  me 
a  few  minutes.  I  am  going  to  expedite  an  affair  about 
which  I  wish  to  converse  with  your  majesty  this  very 
evening." 

"And  the  queens?"  asked  Louis  XIV. 

"And  Monsieur  le  Due  d'Anjou,"  said  his  eminence. 

At  the  same  time  he  turned  round  in  his  rueUe,  the  cur- 
tains of  which,  in  falling,  concealed  the  bed.  The  cardinal, 
nevertheless,  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  conspirators. 

"Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Guiche,"  said  he,  in  a  fretful 
voice,  while  putting  on,  behind  the  curtain,  his  robe  de 
chambre,  with  the  assistance  of  Bernouin. 

"I  am  here,  monseigneur,"  said  the  young  man,  as  he 
approached. 

"Take  my  cards,  you  are  lucky.  Win  a  little  money  for 
me  of  these  gentlemen." 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

The  young  man  sat  down  at  the  table  from  which  the 
king  withdrew  to  talk  with  the  two  queens.  A  serious 
game  was  commenced  between  the  comte  and  several  rich 
courtiers.  In  the  meantime,  Philip  was  discussing  the 
questions  of  dress  with  the  Chevalier  de  Lorraine,  and  they 
had  ceased  to  hear  the  rustling  of  the  cardinal's  silk  robe 
from  behind  the  curtain.  His  eminence  had  followed  Ber 
nouin  into  the  closet  adjoining  the  bedroom. 


THB  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONHE.  269 

CHAPTER  XL. 

AN    AFFAIR   OF  STATE. 

The  cardinal,  on  passing  into  his  cabinet,  found  th« 
Oomte  de  la  Fere,  who  was  waiting  for  him,  engaged  in  ad- 
miring  a  very  fine  Raphael  placed  over  a  sideboard  covered 
with  plate.  His  eminence  came  in  softly,  lightly,  and 
silently,  as  a  shadow,  and  surprised  the  countenance  of  the 
comte,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  pretending  to  divine  by 
the  simple  expression  of  the  face  of  his  interlocutor  what 
would  be  the  result  of  the  conversation.  But  this  time, 
Mazarin  was  disappointed  in  his  expectation;  he  read  noth- 
ing upon  the  face  of  Athos,  not  even  the  respect  he  was 
accustomed  to  meet  with  on  all  faces.  Athos  was  dressed 
in  black,  with  a  simple  lacing  of  silver.  He  wore  the  Holy 
Ghost,  the  Garter,  and  the  Golden  Fleece,  three  orders  of 
such  importance  that  a  king  alone,  or  else  a  player,  could 
wear  them  at  once. 

Mazarin  rummaged  a  long  time  in  his  somewhat  troubled 
memory  to  recall  the  name  he  ought  to  give  to  this  icy  figure, 
but  he  did  not  succeed.  "I  am  told,"  said  he,  at  length, 
"you  have  a  message  from  England  for  me." 

And  he  sat  down,  dismissing  Bernouin,  who,  in  his  qual- 
ity of  secretary,  was  getting  his  pen  ready. 

"On  the  part  of  His  Majesty  the  King  of  England,  yes, 
your  eminence." 

"You  speak  very  good  French  for  an  Englishman,  mon- 
sieur," said  Mazarin  graciously,  looking  through  his  fingers 
at  the  Holy  Ghost,  Garter,  and  Golden  Fleece,  but  more 
particularly  at  the  face  of  the  messenger. 

"I  am  not  an  Englishman,  but  a  Frenchman,  Monsieur  le 
Cardinal,"  replied  Athos. 

"It  is  remarkable  that  the  King  of  England  should  choose 
a  Frenchman  for  his  embassador;  it  is  an  excellent  augury, 
Your  name,  monsieur,  if  you  please." 

"Comte  de  la  Fere,"  replied  Athos,  "bowing  more 
slightly  than  the  ceremonial  and  pride  of  the  all-powerful 
minister  required. 

Mazarin  bent  his  shoulders,  as  if  to  say: 

"I  do  not  know  that  name." 

Athos  did  not  alter  his  carriage. 

"And  you  come,  monsieur,"  continued  Mazarin,  '  to  tell 
me " 

"J    come  on  the  part  of  His  Majesty  the  King  of  Great 


270  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

Britain  to  announce  to  the  King  of  France"  —Mazarin 
frowned — "to  announce  to  the  King  of  France,"  continued 
Athos  imperturbably,  "the  happy  restoration  of  Ilia 
Majesty  Charles  II.  to  the  throne  of  his  ancestors." 

This  shade  did  not  escape  his  cunning  eminence.     Mazarin 
was  too  much  accustomed  to  mankind  not  to  see  in  the 
cold  and  almost  haughty  politeness  of  Athos  an  index  of 
hostility,  which  was  not  of  the  temperature  of   that  hot 
house  called  a  court. 

"You  have  powers,  I  suppose?"  asked  Mazarin,  in  a  short, 
querulous  tone. 

"Yes,  monseigneur."  And  the  word  "monseigneur" 
came  so  painfully  from  the  lips  of  Athos  that  it  might  be 
said  it  skinned  them. 

"In  that  case  show  them." 

Athos  took  from  an  embroidered  velvet  bag  which  he 
carried  under  his  pourpoint  a  dispatch.  The  cardinal  held 
out  his  hand  for  it.  "Your  pardon,  monseigneur,"  said 
Athos.     "My  dispatch  is  for  the  king." 

"Since  you  are  a  Frenchman,  monsieur,  you  ought  to 
know  what  the  position  of  a  prime  minister  is  at  the  Court 
of  France." 

"There  was  a  time,"  replied  Athos,  "when  I  occupied 
myself  with  the  importance  of  prime  ministers;  but  I  have 
formed  long  ago  a  resolution  to  treat  no  longer  with  any 
but  the  king." 

"Then,  monsieur,"  said  Mazarin,  who  began  to  be  irri- 
tated, "you  will  neither  see  the  minister  nor  the  king." 

Mazarin  rose.  Athos  replaced  his  dispatch  in  its  bag 
bowed  gravely,  and  made  several  steps  toward  the  door. 
This  coolness  exasperated  Mazarin. 

"What  strange  diplomatic  proceedings  are  these?"  cried 
he.  "Are  we  again  in  the  times  in  which  Cromwell  sent 
us  bullies  in  the  guise  of  charges  de  affairs  ?  You  want 
nothing,  monsieur,  but  the  steel  cap  on  your  head,  and  a 
Bible  at  your  girdle." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Athos  dryly,  "I  have  never  had;  as 
you  have,  the  advantage  of  treating  with  Cromwell;  and  J 
have  only  seen  his  charges  de  affairs  sword  in  hand;  I  am, 
therefore,  ignorant  of  how  he  treated  with  prime  ministers. 
As  for  the  King  of  England,  Charles  II.,  I  know  that 
when  he  writes  to  His  Majesty  King  Louis  XIV.,  he  does 
not  write  to  His  Eminence  Cardinal  Mazarin.  I  see  no 
diplomacy  in  that  distinction." 

"Ah!"  cried   Mazarin,  raising   his  attenuated   hand,  ancf 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAOxELONN-Eo  271 

striking  his  head,  "I  remember  now!"  Athos  looked  at 
him  in  astonishment.  "Yes,  that  is  it!"  said  the  cardinal, 
continuing  to  look  at  his  interlocutor;  "yes,  that  is  cer- 
tainly it.  I  know  you  now,  monsieur.  Ah,  diavolo!  I  am 
no  longer  astonished." 

"In  fact,  I  was  astonished  that,  with  the  excellent 
memory  your  eminence  has,"  replied  Athos,  smiling,  "you 
had  not  recognized  me  before." 

"Always  refractory  and  grumbling — monsieur — monsieur 
— what  do  they  call  you?  Stop — a  name  of  a  river — 
Potamos;  no — the  name  of  an  island — Naxos;  no,  perGiove! 
the  name  of  a  mountain — Athos!  Now  I  have  it.  De- 
lighted to  see  you  again,  and  to  be  no  longer  at  Eueil, 
where  you  and  your  damned  companions  made  me  pay  ran- 
som. Fronde!  still  Fronde!  accursed  Fronde!  Oh,  what 
grudges!  Why,  monsieur,  have  your  antipathies  survived 
mine?  If  any  one  had  cause  to  complain,  I  think  it  could 
not  be  you,  who  got  out  of  the  affair  not  only  in  a  sound  skin, 
but  with  the  cordon  of  the  Holy  Ghost  around  your  neck." 

"Monsieur  le  Cardinal,"  replied  Athos,  "permit  me  not 
to  enter  into  considerations  of  that  kind.  1  have  a  mission, 
to  fulfill.  Will  you  facilitate  the  means  of  my  fulfilling 
that  mission,  or  will  you  not?" 

"I  am  astonished,"  said  Mazarin,  "quite  delighted  at 
having  regained  the  remembrance;"  and,  bristling  with 
malicious  points,  "I  am  astonished,  monsieur — Athos — 
that  a  Frondeur  like  you  should  have  accepted  a  mission  to 
Mazarin,  as  used  to  be  said  in  the  good  old  times — "  And 
Mazarin  began  to  laugh,  in  spite  of  a  painful  cough,  which 
cut  short  his  sentences,  converting  them  into  sobs. 

"I  have  only  accepted  the  mission  to  the  King  of  France, 
Monsieur  le  Cardinal,"  retorted  the  comte,  though  with 
less  asperity,  for  he  thought  he  had  sufficiently  the  advan- 
tage to  show  himself  modej-aie 

"And  yet,  Monsieur  le  "Froudem-,"  said  Mazarin  gayly, 
"the  affair  with  which  you  charge  yourself  must,  from  the 
king " 

"With  which  I  am  charged,  monseigneur.  I  do  not  run 
after  affairs." 

"Be  it  so.  I  say  that  this  negotiation  must  pass  through 
my  hands.  Let  us  lose  no  precious  time,  then.  Tell  me 
the  conditions." 

"I  have  had  the  honor  of  assuring  your  eminence  that  the 
'.etter  alone  of  His  Majesty  King  Charles  II.  contains  the 
revelation  of  his  wishes." 


272  THE  TICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONKE, 

"Fooh!  you  are  ridiculous  with  your  obstinacy,  Monsieur 
Athos.  It  is  plain  you  have  kept  company  with  the  Puri- 
tans yonder.  As  to  your  secret,  I  know  it  better  than  you 
do;  and  you  have  done  wrongly,  perhaps,  in  not  having 
shown  some  respect  for  a  very  old  and  suffering  man,  who 
has  labored  much  during  his  life,  and  kept  the  field  bravely 
for  his  ideas  as  you  have  for  yours.  You  will  not  communi- 
cate your  letter  to  me?  You  will  say  nothing  to  me? 
Wonderfully  well!  Come  with  me  into  my  chamber;  you 
shall  speak  to  the  king— and  before  the  king.  Now,  then, 
one  last  word:  who  gave  you  the  Fleece?  I  remember  you 
passed  for  having  the  Garter;  but  as  to  the  Fleece,  I  did 
not  know " 

"Recently,  monseigneur,  Spain,  on  the  occasion  of  the 
marriage  of  His  Majesty  Louis  XIV.  sent  King  Charles 
II.  a  brevet  of  the  Fleece  in  blank;  Charles  II.  immediately 
transmitted  it  to  me,  filling  up  the  blank  with  my  name." 

Mazarin  arose,  and  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Bernouin,  he 
returned  to  his  ruelle  at  the  moment  the  name  of  M.  le 
Prince  was  being  announced.  The  Prince  de  Conde,  the 
first  prince  of  the  blood,  the  conqueror  of  Rocroy,  Lens, 
and  Nordlingen,  was,  in  fact,  entering  the  apartment  of 
Monseigneur  de  Mazarin,  followed  by  his  gentlemen,  and 
had  already  saluted  the  king,  when  the  prime  minister 
raised  his  curtain.  Athos  had  time  to  see  Eaoul  pressing 
the  hand  of  the  Comte  de  Guiche,  and  to  return  him  a 
smile  for  his  respectful  bow.  He  had  time,  likewise,  to  see 
the  radiant  countenance  of  the  cardinal,  when  he  perceived 
before  him,  upon  the  table,  an  enormous  heap  of  gold, 
^bich  the  Comte  de  Guiche  had  won  in  a  run  of  luck,  after 
his  eminence  had  confided  his  cards  tc  him.  So,  forgefr 
ting  embassador,  embassy,  and  prince,  his  first  thought  was 
of  the  gold. 

"What!"  cried  the  old  man— "all  that— won?" 

"Some  fifty  thousand  crowns;  yes,  monseigneur,"  replied 
the  Comte  de  Guiche,  rising.  "Must  I  give  my  place  to 
your  eminence,  or  shall  I  continue?" 

"Give  up!  give  up!  you  are  mad.  You  would  lose  all 
you  have  won.     Peste!" 

"Monseigneur!"  said  the  Prince  de  Conde,  bowing. 

"Good-evening,  Monsieur  le  Prince,"  said  the  minister, 
in  a  careless  tone;  "it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  visit  an  old 
sick  friend." 

"A  friend'"  murmured  the  Comte  de  la  Fere,  at  witness- 
ing with  stupor  this  monstrous  alliance  of  words — "friends' 
vyi  en  the  parties  are  Conde  and  Mazarii>.!M 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  273 

Mazarin  seemed  to  divine  the  thought  of  the  Frondeur, 
for  he  smiled  upon  him  with  triumph,  and  immediately: 
"Sire/'  said  he  to  the  king,  "I  have  the  honor  of  present- 
ing to  your  majesty  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere,  embas- 
sador from  his  Britannic  majesty.  An  affair  of  state,  mes- 
sieurs," added  he,  waving  his  hand  to  all  who  filled  the 
chamber,  and  who,  the  Prince  de  Conde  at  their  head,  ail 
disappeared  at  the  simple  gesture.  Raoul,  after  a  last  look 
cast  at  the  comte,  followed  M.  de  Conde.  Philip  of  Anjoi 
and  the  queen  appeared  to  be  consulting  about  departing. 

"A  family  affair,"  said  Mazarin  suddenly,  detaining 
them  in  their  seats. 

"This  gentleman  is  the  bearer  of  a  letter,  in  which  King 
Charles  II.,  completely  restored  to  his  throne,  demands  an 
alliance  between  Monsieur,  the  brother  of  the  king,  and 
Mademoiselle  Henrietta,  granddaughter  of  Henry  IV.  Will 
you  remit  your  letter  of  credit  to  the  king,  Monsieur  le 
Comte?" 

Athos  remained  for  a  minute  stupefied.  How  could  the 
minister  possibly  know  the  contents  of  the  letter,  which 
had  never  been  out  of  his  keeping  for  a  single  instant? 
Nevertheless,  always  master  of  himself,  he  held  out  the 
dispatch  to  the  young  king,  Louis  XIV.,  who  took  it  with 
a  blush.  A  solemn  silence  reigned  in  the  chamber  of  the 
cardinal.  It  was  only  troubled  by  the  dull  sound  of  the 
gold  which  Mazarin,  with  his  yellow,  dry  hand,  piled  up 
in  a  coffret  while  the  king  was  reading. 


CHAPTEE    XLL 

THE   RECITAL. 

The  malice  of  the  cardinal  did  not  leave  mucn  for  the 
embassador  to  say;  nevertheless,  the  word  "restoration" 
had  struck  the  king,  who,  addressing  the  comte,  upon 
whom  his  eyes  had  been  fixed  since  his  entrance: 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "will  you  have  the  kindness  to  give 
us  some  details  of  English  affairs?  You  come  iiom  that 
country,  you  are  a  Frenchman,  and  the  orders  which  I  see 
glitter  upon  your  person  announce  you  to  be  a  man  of  merit 
as  well  as  a  man  of  quality." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  cardinal,  turning  toward  the  queen- 
mother,  "is  an  ancient  ppwan*"  ( ?  your  majesty,  Monsieur 
le  Comte  de  la  Fere." 


274  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

Anne  of  Austria  was  as  oblivious  as  a  queen  whose  life 
had  been  mingled  with  fine  and  stormy  days.  She  looked 
at  Mazarin,  whose  malign  smile  promised  her  something 
disagreeable;  then  she  solicited  from  Athos,  by  another 
look,  an  explanation. 

"Monsieur/'  continued  the  cardinal,  "was  a  Treville 
musketeer  in  the  service  of  the  late  king.  Monsieur  is  well 
acquainted  with  England,  whither  he  has  made  several 
voyages  at  various  periods;  he  is  a  subject  of  the  highest 
merit." 

These  words  made  allusion  to  all  the  remembrances  which 
Anne  of  Austria  trembled  to  evoke.  England,  that  was  her 
hatred  of  Richelieu  and  her  love  for  Buckingham;  a  Tre- 
ville musketeer,  that  was  the  whole  Odyssey  of  the  triumphs 
which  had  made  the  heart  of  the  young  woman  throb,  and 
of  the  dangers  which  had  been  so  near  overturning  the 
throne  of  the  young  queen.  These  words  had  much  power, 
for  they  rendered  mute  and  attentive  all  the  royal  personages 
who,  with  very  various  sentiments,  set  about  recomposing 
at  the  same  time  the  mysterious,  which  the  young  had  not 
seen,  and  which  the  old  had  believed  to  be  forever  effaced. 

"Speak,  monsieur,"  said  Louis  XIV.,  the  first  to  escape 
from  troubles,  suspicions,  and  remembrances. 

"Yes,  speak,"  added  Mazarin,  to  whom  the  little  piece 
of  malice  inflicted  upon  Anne  of  Austria  had  restored 
energy  and  gayety. 

"Sire,"  said  the  comte,  "a  sort  of  miracle  has  changed 
the  whole  destiny  of  Charles  II.  That  which  men,  till  that 
time,  had  been  unable  to  do,  God  resolved  to  accomplish." 

Mazarin  coughed,  while  tossing  about  in  his  bed. 

"King  Charles  II.,"  continued  Athos,  "left  the  Hague 
neither  as  a  fugitive  nor  a  conqueror,  but  like  an  absolute 
king,  who,  after  a  distant  voyage  from  his  kingdom,  returns 
amid  universal  benedictions." 

"A  great  miracle,  indeed,"  said  Mazarin;  "for,  if  the 
news  was  true,  King  Charles  II.,  who  has  just  returned 
amid  benedictions,  went  away  amid  musket-shots." 

The  king  remained  impassible.  Philip,  younger  and 
more  frivolous,  could  not  repress  a  smile,  which  flattered 
Mazarin  as  an  applause  of  his  pleasantry. 

"It  is  plain,"  said  the  king,  "there  is  a  miracle;  but  God 
who  does  so  much  for  kings.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  neverthe- 
less employs  the  hands  of  man  to  bring  about  the  triumph 
of  His  designs.  To  what  men  does  Charles  II.  principally 
owe  his  re-establishuieat;'" 


THE   VTCOMTE    DE   BRAGELOKJTE.  S?5 

"Why,"  interrupted  Mazarin,  "without  any  regard  for 
the  self-love  of  the  king,  does  not  your  majesty  know  that 
it  is  to  Monsieur  Monk?" 

"I  ought  to  know  it,"  replied  Louis  XIV.  resolutely; 
"and  yet  I  ask  Monsieur  the  Embassador  the  causes  of  the 
change  in  this  Monsieur  Monk?" 

"And  your  majesty  touches  precisely  the  question,"  re- 
plied Athos;  "for  without  the  miracle  I  have  had  the  honor 
to  speak  of,  Monsieur  Monk  would  probably  have  remained 
an  implacable  enemy  to  Charles  II.  God  willed  that  a 
strange,  bold,  and  ingenious  idea  should  enter  into  the 
mind  of  a  certain  man,  while  a  devoted  and  courageous  idea 
took  possession  of  the  mind  of  another  man.  The  combina- 
tion of  these  two  ideas  brought  about  such  a  change  in  the 
fDosition  of  Monsieur  Monk  that  from  an  inveterate  enemy 
le  became  a  friend  to  the  deposed  king." 

"These  are  exactly  the  details  I  asked  for,"  said  the  king, 
"Who  and  what  are  the  two  men  of  whom  you  speak?" 

"Two  Frenchmen,  sire." 

"Indeed!     I  am  glad  of  that." 

"And  the  two  ideas,"  said  Mazarin;  "I  am  more  curious 
about  ideas  than  about  men,  for  my  part." 

"Yes,"  murmured  the  king. 

"The  second  idea,  the  devoted,  reasonable  idea — the 
least  important,  sir — was  to  go  and  dig  up  a  million  in  gold, 
buried  by  King  Charles  I.  at  Newcastle,  and  to  purchase 
with  that  gold  the  adherence  of  Monk." 

"Oh,  oh!"  said  Mazarin,  reanimated  by  the  word  million. 
"But  Newcastle  was  at  the  time  occupied  by  Monk." 

"Yes,  Wonsieur  le  Cardinal,  and  that  is  why  I  venture  to 
call  the  idea  courageous  as  well  as  devote.  It  was  neces- 
sary, if  Monk  refused  the  offers  of  thp  negotiator,  to  rein- 
state King  Charles  II.  in  possession  of  this  million,  which 
was  to  be  torn,  as  it  were,  frotn  the  loyalty  and  not  the 
loyalism  of  General  Monk.  T^is  was  effected,  in  spite  of 
many  difficulties;  the  general  proved  to  be  loyal,  and 
allowed  the  money  to  be  taken  away." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  timid,  thoughtful  king, 
"that  Charles  II.  could  not  have  known  of  this  million 
while  he  was  in  Paris." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  rejoined  the  cardinal  maliciously, 
"that  His  Majesty  the  King  of  Great  Britain  knew  perfectly 
well  of  this  million,  but  that  he  preferred  having  two  millions 
to  having  one." 

"Sire,"  said  Athos  firmly,  "the  King  of  England,  while 


276  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

in  France,  was  so  poor  that  he  had  not  even  money  to  take 
the  post;  so  destitute  of  hope  that  he  frequently  thought  of 
dying.  He  was  so  entirely  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  tha 
million  at  Newcastle  that  but  for  a  gentleman — one  of  your 
majesty's  subjects — the  moral  depositary  of  the  million,  and 
who  revealed  the  secret  to  King  Charles  II.,  that  prince 
would  still  be  vegetating  in  the  most  cruel  forgetfulness." 

"Let  us  pass  on  to  the  strange,  bold,  and  ingenious  idea," 
interrupted  Mazarin,  whose  sagacity  foresaw  a  check. 
"What  was  that  idea?" 

»  "This — Monsieur  Monk  formed  the  only  obstacle  to  the 
re-establishment  of  the  fallen  king.  A  Frenchman  imag- 
ined the  idea  of  suppressing  this  obstacle." 

"Oh!  oh!  but  that  is  a  scoundrel,  that  Frenchman,"  said 
Mazarin;  "and  the  idea  is  not  so  ingenious  as  to  prevent  its 
author  being  tied  up  by  the  neck  at  the  Place  de  Greve,  by 
decree  of  the  parliament." 

"Your  eminence  is  mistaken,"  replied  Athos  dryly;  "I 
did  not  say  that  the  Frenchman  in  question  had  resolved  to 
assassinate  Monsieur  Monk,  but  only  to  suppress  him.  The 
words  of  the  French  language  have  a  value  which  the  gen- 
tlemen of  France  know  perfectly.  Besides,  this  is  an  affair 
of  war;  and  when  men  serve  kings  against  their  enemies 
they  are  not  to  be  condemned  by  a  parliament — God  is  their 
judge.  This  French  gentleman,  then,  formed  the  idea  of 
gaining  possession  of  the  person  of  Monk,  and  he  executed 
his  plan." 

The  king  became  animated  at  the  recital  of  great  actions. 
The  king's  younger  brother  struck  the  table  with  his  hand4 
exclaiming: 

"Ah!  that  is  fine!" 

"He  carried  off  Monk?"  said  the  king.  "Why,  Monk 
was  in  his  camp." 

'And  the  gentleman  was  alone,  sire.-" 

'That  is  marvelous!"  said  Philip. 
'Marvelous,  indeed!"  cried  the  king. 

''Good!  There  are  two  little  lions  unchained,"  mur- 
mured the  cardinal.'  And  with  an  air  of  spite,  which  he 
did  not  dissemble:  "I  am  unacquainted  with  these  details; 
wfll  you  guarantee  the  authenticity  of  them,  monsieur?" 

"All  the  more  easily,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  from  having 
seen  the  events." 

"You  have?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

The  king  had  involuntarily  drawn  close  to  the  comte,  tho 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  277 

Due  d'Anjou  had  turned  sharply  round,  and  pressed  Athos 
on  the  other  side. 

"Next,  monsieur,  next!"  cried  they  hoth  at  the  same  time. 

"Sire,  Monsieur  Monk,  being  taken  by  the  Frenchman, 
was  brought  to  King  Charles  II. ,  at  the  Hague.  The  king 
restored  Monk  his  liberty,  and  the  grateful  general,  in  re- 
turn, gave  Charles  II.  the  throne  of  Great  Britain,  for 
which  so  many  valiant  people  have  died  without  result." 

Philip  clapped  his  hands  with  enthusiasm;  Louis  XIV. ; 
more  reflective,  turned  toward  the  Comte  de  la  Fere. 

"Is  this  true,"  said  he,  "in  all  its  details?" 

"Absolutely  true,  sire." 

"That  one  of  my  gentlemen  knew  the  secret  of  the  mil- 
lion, and  kept  it?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"The  name  of  that  gentleman?" 

"It  was  your  humble  servant,"  said  Athos  simply,  and 
bowing. 

A  murmur  of  admiration  made  the  heart  of  Athos  swell 
with  pleasure.  He  had  reason  to  be  proud,  at  least.  Maz- 
arin  himself  had  raised  his  arms  toward  heaven. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  "I  will  seek,  I  will  find  means 
to  reward  you."  Athos  made  a  movement.  "Oh,  not  for 
your  probity;  to  be  paid  for  that  would  humiliate  you:  but 
I  owe  you  a  reward  for  having  participated  in  the  restora- 
tion of  my  brother,  King  Charles  II." 

"Certainly,"  said  Mazarin. 

"It  is  the  triumph  of  a  good  cause  which  fills  the  whole 
house  of  France  with  joy,"  said  Anne  of  Austria. 

"To  continue,"  said  Louis  XIV.:  "is  it  also  true  that  a 
single  man  penetrated  to  Monk,  in  his  camp,  and  carried 
him  off?" 

"That  man  had  ten  auxiliaries,  taken  from  a  very  inferior 
rank." 

"And  nothing  but  them?" 

"Nothing  more." 

"And  you  call  him?" 

"Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  formerly  lieutenant  of  the  mus- 
keteers of  your  majesty." 

Anne  of  Austria  colored;  Mazarin  became  yellow  with 
shame;  Louis  XIV.  was  deeply  thoughtful,  and  a  drop  of 
sweat  fell  from  his  pale  brow. 

"What  men!"  murmured  he.  And  involuntarily  he 
darted  a  glance  at  the  minister  which  would  have  terrified 
him,  if  Mazarin,  at  tne  momejit  had  not  concealed  his  head 
under  his  pillow-. 


278  THE    VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELOXNE. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  young  Due  d'Anjou,  placing  hu 
hand,  delicate  and  white  as  that  of  a  woman,  upon  the  arm 
of  Athos,  "tell  that  brave  man,  I  beg  you,  that  Monsieur, 
brother  of  the  king,  will  to-morrow  drink  his  health  before 
five  hundred  of  the  best  gentlemen  of  France." 

And  on  finishing  these  words  the  young  man,  perceiving 
that  his  enthusiasm  had  deranged  one  of  his  ruffles,  set  to 
work  to  put  it  to  rights  with  the  greatest  care  imaginable. 

"Let  us  resume  business,  sire,"  interrupted  Mazarin, 
who  never  was  enthusiastic,  and  who  hud  no  ruffles  on. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  Louis  XIV.  "Enter  upon 
your  communications,  Monsieur  le  Comte;"  added  he,  turn- 
ing toward  Athos. 

Athos  immediately  commenced,  and  offered  in  due  foim 
the  hand  of  the  Princess  Henrietta  Stuart  to  the  young 
prince,  the  king's  brother.  The  conference  lasted  an  hour; 
after  which  the  doors  of  the  chamber  were  thrown  open  to 
the  courtiers,  who  resumed  their  places,  as  if  nothing  had 
been  kept  from  them  in  the  occupations  of  that  evening. 
Athos  then  found  himself  again  with  Raoul,  and  the  father 
and  son  were  able  to  clasp  hands  once  more. 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

IN  WHICH   MAZARIN"  BECOMES   PRODIGAL. 

While  Mazarin  was  endeavoring  to  recover  from  the 
serious  alarm  he  had  just  experienced,  Athos  and  Raoui 
were  exchanging  a  few  words  in  a  corner  of  the  apartment. 

"Well,  here  you  are  at  Paris,  then,  Raoul?"  said  the 
comte. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  since  the  return  of  Monsieur  le  Prince." 

"I  cannot  converse  freely  with  you  here,  because  we  are 
observed;  but  I  shall  return  home  presently,  and  shall  ex- 
pect you  as  soon  as  your  duty  permits." 

Raoul  bowed,  and  at  that  moment  M.  le  Prince  came  up 
to  them.  The  prince  had  that  clear,  keen  look  which  dis- 
tinguishes birds  of  prey  of  the  noble  species;  his  physiog- 
nomy itself  presented  several  distinct  traits  of  this  resem- 
blance. It  is  known  that  in  the  Prince  de  Oonde  the 
aquiline  nose  rose  out  sharply  and  incisively  from  a  brow 
slightly  retreating,  rather  low  than  high,  which,  according 
to  the  railers  of  the  court,  a  pitiless  race  even  for  genius, 
constituted  rather  an  eagle's  beak  than  a  human  nose,  in 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BB  AGELONNE.  279 

I. he  heir  of  the  illustrious  princes  of  the  house  of  Conde. 
This  penetrating  look,  this  imperious  expression  of  the 
whole  countenance,  generally  disturbed  those  to  whom  the 
prince  spoke  more  than  either  majesty  or  regular  beauty 
could  have  done  in  the  conqueror  of  Eocroy.  Besides  this, 
the  fire  mounted  so  suddenly  to  his  projecting  eyes  that 
with  the  prince  every  sort  of  animation  resembled  passion. 
Now,  on  account  of  his  rank,  everybody  at  the  court  re- 
spected M.  le  Prince,  and  many  even,  seeing  only  the  man, 
carried  their  respect  as  far  as  terror.  Louis  de  Conde  then 
advanced  toward  the  Comte  de  la  Fere  and  Raoul,  with  the 
marked  intention  of  being  saluted  by  the  one  and  of  speak- 
ing to  the  other.  No  man  bowed  with  more  reserved  grace 
than  the  Comte  de  la  Fere.  He  disdained  to  put  into  a 
salutation  all  the  shades  which  a  courtier  ordinarily  borrows 
from  the  same  color — the  desire  to  please.  Athos  knew  his 
own  personal  value,  and  bowed  to  the  prince  like  a  man, 
correcting  by  something  sympathetic  and  undefinable  that 
which  might  have  appeared  offensive  to  the  pride  of  the 
highest  rank  in  the  inflexibility  of  his  attitude.  The  prince 
was  about  to  speak  to  Raoul.     Athos  prevented  him. 

"If  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  de  Bragelonne,"  said  he,  "were 
dot  one  of  the  humble  servants  of  your  royal  highness,  I 
would  beg  him  to  pronounce  my  name  before  you,  mon 
prince." 

"I  have  the  honor  to  address  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la 
Fere,"  said  Conde  instantly. 

"My  protector,"  added  Raoul,  blushing. 

"One  of  the  most  honorable  men  in  the  kingdom,"  con- 
tinued the  prince;  "one  of  the  first  gentlemen  of  France, 
and  of  whom  I  have  heard  so  much  that  I  have  frequently 
desired  to  number  him  among  my  friends." 

"An  honor  of  which  I  should  be  unworthy,"  replied 
Athos,  "but  for  the  respect  and  admiration  I  entertain  for 
your  royal  highness." 

"Monsieur  de  Bragelonne,"  said  the  prince,  "is  a  good 
officer,  who,  it  is  plain,  has  been  to  a  good  school.  Ah, 
Monsieur  le  Comte,  in  your  time  generals  had  soldiers!" 

"That  is  true,  monseigneur;  but  noAvadays  soldiers  have 
generals." 

This  compliment,  which  savored  so  little  of  flattery,  made 
to  thrill  with  joy  a  man  whom  already  Europe  considered  a 
hero,  and  who  might  be  thought  to  be  satiated  with  praise. 
"I  very  much  regret,"  continued  the  prince,  "that  you 
should  have  retired  from  the  service,  Monsieui  le  Comte; 


280  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

for  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  king  will  soon  have  a 
war  with  Holland  or  England,  and  opportunities  for  dis- 
tinguishing himself  would  not  be  wanting  for  a  man  who, 
like  you,  knows  Great  Britain  as  well  as  you  do  France." 

"I  bejieve  I  may  say,  monseigneur,  that  I  have  acted 
wisely  in  retiring  from  the  service,"  said  Athos;  smiling. 
"France  and  Great  Britain  will  henceforward  live  like  two 
sisters,  if  I  can  trust  my  presentiments." 

"Your  presentiments?" 

"Stop,  monseigneur;  listen  to  what  is  being  said  yonder., 
at  the  table  of  Monsieur  le  Cardinal." 

"Where  they  are  playing?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

The  cardinal  had  just  raised  himself  upon  one  elbow,  and 
made  a  sign  to  the  king's  brother,  who  went  to  him. 
"Monseigneur,"  said  the  cardinal,  "pick  up,  if  you  please, 
all  those  gold  crowns."  And  he  pointed  to  the  enormous 
pile  of  yellow  and  glittering  pieces  which  the  Comte  de 
Guiche  had  raised  by  degrees  before  him  by  a  surprising 
run  of  luck  at  play. 

"For  me?"  cried  the  Due  d'Anjou. 

"Those  fifty  thousand  crowns;  yes,  monseigneur,  they  are 
yours." 

"Do  you  give  them  to  me?" 

"I  have  been  playing  on  your  account,  monseigneur,"  re- 
plied the  cardinal,  getting  weaker  and  weaker,  as  if  this 
effort  of  giving  money  had  exhausted  all  his  physical  and 
moral  faculties. 

"Oh,  good  heavens!"  exclaimed  Philip,  wild  with  joy, 
"what  a  fortunate  3ay!"  And  he  himself,  making  a  rake  of 
his  fingers,  drew  a  part  of  the  sum  into  his  pockets,  which 
he  filled,  and  still  full  a  third  remained  on  the  table. 

"Chevalier,"  said  Philip  to  his  favorite,  the  Chevalier  de 
Lorraine,  "come  hither,  chevalier."  The  favorite  quickly 
obeyed.     "Pocket  the  rest,"  said  the  young  prince. 

This  singular  scene  was  only  taken  by  the  persons  present 
as  a  touching  kind  of  family  fete.  The  cardinal  assumed 
the  airs  of  a  father  with  the  sons  of  France,  and  the  two 
young  princes  had  grown  up  under  his  wing.  No  one  then 
imputed  to  pride,  or  even  impertinence,  as  would  be  done 
nowadays,  this  liberality  on  the  part  of  the  first  minister. 
The  courtiers  were  satisfied  with  envying  the  prince.  The 
king  turned  away  his  head. 

"I  never  had  so  much  money  before,"  said  the  young 
prince  joyously,  as  he  crossed  the  chamber  with  his  favorite 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  281 

to  go  to  his  carriage.  "No,  never!  What  a  weight  these 
crowns  are!" 

"But  why  has  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  given  the  money  all 
at  once?"  asked  Monsieur  le  Prince  of  the  Comte  de  la 
Fere.     "He  must  be  very  ill,  the  dear  cardinal." 

"Yes,  monseigneur  is  very  ill,  without  doubt;  he  looks 
very  ill,  as  your  royal  highness  may  perceive." 

"Certes!  but  he  will  die  of  it.  A  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand livres.  Oh,  it  is  incredible!  But  why,  comte?  Tell 
me  a  reason  for  it?" 

"Patience,  monseigneur,  I  beg  of  you.  Here  comes  Mon- 
sieur le  Due  d'Anjou,  talking  with  the  Chevalier  de  Lor- 
raine; I  should  not  be  surprised  if  they  spared  us  the 
trouble  of  being  indiscreet.     Listen  to  them." 

In  fact,  the  chevalier  said  to  the  prince  in  a  low  voice, 
"Monseigneur,  it  is  not  natural  for  Monsieur  Mazarin  to 
give  you  so  much  money.  Take  care;  you  will  let  some  of 
the  pieces  fall,  monseigneur.  What  design  has  the  cardinal 
upon  you,  to  make  him  so  generous?" 

"As  I  said,"  whispered  Athos,  in  the  prince's  ear;  "that, 
perhaps,  is  the  best  reply  to  your  question." 

"Tell,  me,  monseigneur,"  reiterated  the  chevalier  im- 
patiently, as  he  was  calculating,  by  weighing  them  in  his 
pocket,  the  quarter  of  the  sum  which  had  fallen  to  his 
share  by  rebound. 

"My  dear  chevalier,  a  nuptial  present." 

"How  a  nuptial  present?" 

"Eh!  yes,  I  am  going  to  be  married,"  replied  the  Due 
d'Anjou,  without  perceiving,  at  the  moment  he  was  pass- 
ing, the  prince  and  Athos,  who  both  bowed  respectfully. 

The  chevalier  darted  at  the  young  duke  a  glance  so 
strange  and  so  malicious  that  the  Comte  de  la  Fere  quite 
started  at  beholding  it. 

"You!  you  be  married!"  repeated  he;  "oh!  that's  impos- 
sible.    You  would  not  comm.t  such  a  folly!" 

"Bah!  I  don't  do  it  myself;  I  am  made  to  do  it,"  replied 
the  Due  d'Anjou.  "But  come,  quick!  let  us  get  rid  of  our 
mor_9y."  Thereupon  he  disappeared  with  his  companions, 
laughing  and  talking,  while  all  heads  were  bowed  on  his 
passage. 

"Then,"  whispered  the  prince  to  Athos,  "that  is  the 
secret." 

"It  was  not  I  that  told  you  so,  monseigneur. 3i 

"He  is  to  marry  thft  sister  of  Charles  II, ?" 

"I  believe  so." 


282  THE  VICOMTE  DE   P.RAGELONNE. 

The  prince  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  his  eye  shot 
forth  one  of  its  not  unfreqnent  flashes.  "Humph!"  said 
he  slowly,  as  if  speaking  to  himself;  "once  more  our  swords 
are  to  be  hung  on  the  wall — for  a  long  time!"  and  he  sighed. 

All  which  that  sigh  contained  of  ambition  silently  stifled, 
of  illusions  extinguished  and  hopes  disappointed,  Athos 
alone  divined,  for  he  alone  had  heard  that  sigh.  Imme- 
diately after  the  prince  took  leave  and  the  king  left  the 
apartment.  Athos,  by  a  sign  made  to  Bragelonne,  renewed 
the  desire  he  had  expressed  at  the  commencement  of  the 
scene.  By  degrees  the  chamber  was  deserted,  and  Mazarin 
was  left  alone,  a  prey  to  suffering  which  he  could  no  longer 
dissemble.  "Bernouin!  Bernouin!"  cried  he,  in  a  broken 
voice. 

"What  does  monseigneur  want?" 

"Guenaud — let  Guenaud  be  sent  for,"  said  his  eminence. 
"I  think  I  am  dying." 

Bernouin,  in  great  terror,  rushed  into  the  cabinet  to  give 
the  order,  and  the  piquer,  who  hastened  to  fetch  the  physi- 
cian, passed  the  king's  carriage  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

GUEtfAND. 

The  order  of  the  cardinal  was  pressing;  Guenaud  quickly 
obeyed  it.  He  found  his  patient  stretched  upon  his  bed, 
his  legs  swelled,  livid,  and  his  stomach  collapsed.  Mazarin 
had  just  undergone  a  severe  attack  of  gout.  He  suffered 
cruelly,  and  with  the  impatience  of  a  man  who  has  not  been 
accustomed  to  resistance.  On  the  arrival  of  Guenaud: 
"Ah!"  said  he;  "now  I  am  saved!" 

Guenaud  was  a  very  learned  and  circumspect  man,  who 
stood  in  no  need  of  the  critics  of  Boileau  to  obtain  a  repu- 
tation. When  in  face  of  a  disease,  if  it  were  personified  in 
a  king,  he  treated  the  patient  as  a  Turk  or  Moor.  He  did 
not  therefore  reply  to  Mazarin  as  the  minister  expected: 
"Here  is  the  doctor;  good-by,  disease!"  On  the  contrary, 
on  examining  his  patient,  with  a  very  serious  air: 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  he. 

"Eh!  what,  Guenaud?     How  you  look!" 

"I  look  as  I  ought  to  do  on  seeing  your  complaint,  mon- 
seigneur; it  is  a  very  dangerous  one," 

"The  gout.     Oh!  yes,  the  gout," 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  283 

"With  complications,  monseigneur." 

Mazarin  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow,  and  questioning 
by  look  and  gesture-.  "What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Am  I 
worse  than  I  believe  myself  to  be?" 

"Monseigneur,"  said  Guenaud,  seating  himself  by  the 
bed,  "your  eminence  has  worked  very  hard  during  your 
iife;  your  eminence  has  suffered  much." 

"But  I  am  not  old,  I  fancy.  The  late  Monsieur  de 
Richelieu  was  but  seventeen  months  younger  than  I  am 
when  he  died,  and  died  of  a  mortal  disease.  I  am  young, 
Guenaud;  remember,  I  am  scarcely  fifty -two." 

"Oh!  monseigneur,  you  are  much  more  than  that.  How 
long  did  the  Fronde  last?" 

"For  what  purpose  do  you  put  such  a  question  to  me?" 

"For  a  medical  calculation,  monseigneur." 

"Well,  some  ten  years — off  aud  on." 

"Very  well;  be  kind  enough  to  reckon  every  year  of  the 
Fronde  as  three  years — that  makes  thirty;  now  twenty  and 
fifty-two  make  seventy-two  years.  You  are  seventy-two, 
monseigneur;  and  that  is  a  great  age."  While  saying  this, 
he  felt  the  pulse  of  his  patient.  This  pulse  was  filled  with 
such  fatal  prognostics  that  the  physician  continued,  not- 
withstanding the  interruptions  of  the  patient:  "Put  down 
the  years  of  the  Fronde  at  four  each,  and  you  have  lived 
eighty-two  years." 

"Are  you  speaking  seriously,  Guenaud?" 

"Alas!  yes,  monseigneur." 

"You  take  a  roundabout  way,  then,  to  announce  to  me 
that  I  am  very  ill?" 

"Ma  foil  yes,  monseigneur,  and  with  a  man  of  the  mind 
and  courage  of  your  eminence,  it  ought  not  to  be  necessary 
to  do  so." 

The  cardinal  breathed  with  such  difficulty  that  he  in- 
spired pity  even  in  a  pitiless  physician.  "There  are  diseases 
and  diseases,"  resumed  Mazarin.  "From  some  of  them 
people  escape." 

"That  is  true,  monseigneur." 

"Is  it  not?"  cried  Mazarin,  almost  joyously;  "for,  in 
short,  what  else  would  be  the  use  of  power,  of  strength,  of 
will?  Of  what  use  would  genius  be— your  genius,  Guenaud? 
Of  what  use  would  be  science  and  art,  if  the  patient,  who 
disposes  of  all  that,  cannot  be  saved  from  peril?" 

Guenaud  was  about  to  open  his  moutn,  but  Mazarin  con- 
tinued: 

'  .Remember/'  said  he,  "I  am  the  most  confiding  of  your 


284  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

patients;  remember,  1  obey  you  blindly,  and  that  conse- 
quently " 

"I  know  all  that,"  said  Guenaud. 

"I  shall  be  cured,  then?" 

"Monseigneur,  there  is  neither  strength  of  wii!,  nor 
power,  nor  genius,  nor  science,  that  can  resist  a  disease 
which  God  doubtless  sends,  or  which  he  cast  upon  the  earth 
at  the  creation,  with  full  power  to  destroy  and  kill  man- 
kind. When  the  disease  is  mortal,  it  kills,  and  nothing 
can " 

"Is — my — disease — mortal?"  asked  Mazarin. 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

His  eminence  sank  down  for  a  moment,  like  an  unfor- 
tunate wretch  who  is  crushed  by  a  falling  column.  But 
the  spirit  of  Mazarin  was  a  strong  one,  or,  rather,  his  mind 
was  a  firm  one.  "Guenaud,"  said  he,  recovering  from  his 
first  shock,  "you  will  permit  me  to  appeal  from  your  judg- 
ment. I  will  call  together  the  most  learned  men  of  Europe; 
I  will  consult  them.  I  will  live,  in  short,  by  the  virtue  of 
I  care  not  what  remedy." 

"Monseigneur  must  not  suppose,"  said  Guenaud,  "that 
I  have  the  presumption  to  pronounce  alone  upon  an  exist- 
ence so  valuable  as  yours.  I  have  already  assembled  all  the 
good  physicians  and  practitioners  of  France  and  Europe. 
There  were  twelve  of  them." 

"And  they  said " 

"They  said  that  your  eminence  was  attacked  with  a  mor- 
tal disease;  I  have  the  consultation  signed  in  my  portfolio. 
If  your  eminence  will  please  to  see  it,  you  will  find  the 
names  of  all  the  incurable  diseases  we  have  met  with. 
There  is  first " 

"No,  no!"  cried  Mazarin,  pushing  away  the  paper.  "No, 
no,  Guenaud,  I  yield!  I  yield!"  And  a  profound  silenca. 
during  which  the  cardinal  resumed  his  senses  and  recovered 
hisstrength,  succeeded  to  the  agitation  of  this  scene.  "There 
is  another  thing,"  murmured  Mazarin;  "there  are  empirics 
and  charlatans.  In  my  country,  those  whom  physicians 
abandon  run  the  chances  of  a  vender  of  orvietan,  which 
ten  times  kills  them,  but  a  hundred  times  saves  them." 

"Has  not  your  eminence  observed  that  during  the  last 
month  I  have  altered  my  remedies  ten  times?" 

"Yes.     Well?" 

"Well,  I  have  spent  fifty  thousand  livres  in  purchasing 
the  secrets  of  all  these  fellows;  the  list  is  exhausted,  and  so 
18  my  purse.  You  are  not  cured]  and;  but  for  my  art,  you 
would  be  dead,"" 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  285 

"That  ends  it!"  murmured  the  cardinal:  "that  ends  it!" 
And  he  threw  a  melancholy  look  upon  the  riches  which 
surrounded  him.  "And  must  I  quit  all  that?"  sighed  he* 
"I  am  dying,  Guenaud!     I  am  dying!" 

"Oh!  not  yet,  monseigneur,"  said  the  physician. 

Mazariu  seized  his  hand.  "In  what  time?"  asked  he, 
fixing  his  two  large  eyes  upon  the  impassible  countenance 
of  the  physician. 

"Monseigneur,  we  never  tell  that." 

"To  ordinary  men,  perhaps  not;  but  to  me — to  me, 
whose  every  minute  is  worth  a  treasure.  Tell  me,  Guen- 
aud, tell  me!" 

"No,  no,  monseigneur." 

"I  insist  upon  it,  I  tell  you.  Oh!  give  me  a  month,  and 
for  every  one  of  those  thirty  days  I  will  pay  you  a  hundred 
thousand  livres." 

"Monseigneur,"  replied  Guenaud,  in  a  firm  voice,  "it  is 
God  who  can  give  you  days  of  grace,  and  not  I.  God  only 
allows  you  a  fortnight." 

The  cardinal  breathed  a  painful  sigh,  and  sank  back 
upon  his  pillow,  murmuring,  "Thank  you,  Guenaud,  thank 
you!" 

The  physician  was  about  to  depart;  the  dying  man  raised 
himself  up:  "Silence!"  said  he,  with  eyes  of  flame,  "silence!" 

"Monseigneur,  I  have  known  this  secret" two  montl  s;  you 
see  that  I  have  kept  it  faithfully." 

"Go,  Guenaud;  I  will  take  care  of  your  fortunes;  go, 
and  tell  Brienne  to  send  me  a  clerk  called  Monsieur  Col- 
bert.    Go!" 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

COLBERT. 

Colbert  was  not  far  off.  During  the  whole  evening  he 
had  remained  in  one  of  the  corridors,  chatting  with  Ber- 
nouin  and  Brienne,  and  commenting,  with  the  ordinary 
skill  of  people  of  a  court,  upon  the  views  which  develop 
themselves,  like  air-bubbles  upon  the  water,  on  the  surface 
of  each  event.  It  is  doubtless  time  to  trace,  in  a  few  words, 
one  of  the  most  interesting  portraits  of  the  age,  and  to 
trace  it  with  as  much  truth,  perhaps,  as  contemporary 
painters  have  been  able  to  do.  Colbert  was  a  man  in  whom 
the  historian  and  the  moralist  have  an  equal  right.     He  was 


286  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

thirteen  years  older  than  Louis  XIV.,  his  future  master, 
Of  middle  height,  rather  thin  than  otherwise,  he  had  deejt- 
set  eyes,  a  mean  appearance,  coarse  black  and  thin  hair, 
which,  say  the  biographers  of  his  time,  made  him  take  early 
to  the  calotte.  A  look  of  severity,  of  harshness  even,  a  sort 
of  stiffness,  which,  with  inferiors,  was  pride,  with  superiors, 
an  affectation  of  superior  virtue;  a  surly  cast  of  countenance 
upon  all  occasions,  even  when  looking  at  himself  in  a  glass 
alone — such  is  the  exterior  of  the  personage.  As  to  the 
moral  part  of  his  character,  the  depth  of  his  talent  for 
accounts,  and  his  ingenuity  in  making  sterility  itself  pro- 
ductive, were  much  boasted  of.  Colbert  had  formed  the 
idea  of  forcing  governors  of  frontier  places  to  feed  the  gar- 
risons without  pay  with  what  they  drew  from  contributions. 
Such  a  valuable  quality  made  Mazarin  think  of  replacing 
Joubert,  his  intendant,  who  was  recently  dead,  by  M.  Col- 
bert, who  had  such  skill  in  nibbling  down  allowances.  Col- 
bert by  degrees  crept  into  the  court,  notwithstanding  the 
meanness  of  his  birth,  for  he  was  the  son  of  a  man  who 
sold  wine,  as  his  father  had  done,  but  who  afterward  sold 
cloth,  and  then  silk  stuffs.  Colbert,  destined  for  trade, 
had  been  a  clerk  to  a  merchant  at  Lyons,  whom  he  had 
quitted  to  come  to  Paris  in  the  office  of  a  Chatelet  pro- 
cureur  named  Biterne.  It  was  here  he  learned  the  art  of 
drawing  up  an  account,  and  the  much  more  valuable  one  of 
complicating  it.  This  stiffness  of  Colbert's  had  been  of 
great  benefit  to  him;  so  true  is  it  that  Fortune,  when  she 
has  a  caprice,  resembles  those  women  of  antiquity  whose 
fantasy  nothing  physical  or  moral,  in  either  things  or  men, 
disgusted.  Colbert,  placed  with  Michel  Letellier,  Secretary 
of  State,  in  1648,  by  his  cousin  Colbert,  Seigneur  de  St. 
Penange,  who  favored  him,  received  one  day  from  the  min- 
ister a  commission  for  Cardinal  Mazarin.  His  eminence  was 
then  in  the  enjoyment  of  flourishing  health,  and  the  bad 
years  of  the  Fronde  had  not  yet  counted  triple  and  quad- 
ruple for  him.  He  was  at  Sedan,  very  much  annoyed  at  a 
court  intrigue  in  which  Anne  of  Austria  appeared  to  wish 
to  desert  his  cause.  Of  this  intrigue  Letellier  held  the 
thread.  He  had  just  received  a  letter  from  Anne  of  Austria, 
a  letter  very  valuable  to  him,  and  strongly  compromising 
Mazarin;  but,  as  he  already  played  the  double  part  which 
served  him  so  well,  and  by  which  he  always  managed  two 
enemies  so  as  to  draw  advantage  from  both,  either  by  im- 
broiling  them  more  and  more  or  by  reconciling  them, 
Michel  Letellier  wished  to  send  Anne  of  Austria's  letter 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  287 

go  Mazarin,  in  order  that  be  might  be  acquainted  with  it, 
and  consequently  would  be  pleased  with  his  having  rendered 
him  a  service  so  willingly.  To  send  the  letter  was  an  easy 
matter;  to  recover  it  again,  after  having  communicated  it, 
that  was  the  difficulty.  Letellier  cast  his  eyes  around  him, 
and  seeing  the  black  and  meager  clerk  scribbling  away  with 
his  scrowling  brow  in  his  office,  he  preferred  him  to  the 
best  gendarme  for  the  execution  of  this  design. 

Colbert  was  commanded  to  set  out  for  Sedan,  with  posi- 
tive orders  to  carry  the  letter  to  Mazarin,  and  bring  it  back 
to  Letellier.  He  listened  to  his  orders  with  scrupulous 
attention,  required  it  to  be  repeated  to  him  twice,  and  was 
particular  in  learning  whether  the  bringing  back  was  as 
necessary  as  the  communicating,  and  Letellier  replied, 
sternly,  "More  necessary."  Then  he  set  out,  traveled  like 
a  courier,  without  any  care  for  his  body,  and  placed  in  the 
hands  of  Mazarin,  first  a  letter  from  Letellier,  which  an- 
nounced to  the  cardinal  the  sending  of  the  precious  letter, 
.and  then  that  letter  itself.  Mazarin  colored  greatly  while 
reading  Anne  of  Austria's  letter,  gave  Colbert  a  gracious 
smile,  and  dismissed  him. 

"When  shall  I  have  the  answer,  monseigneur?" 

"To-morrow." 

"To-morrow  morning?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

The  clerk  turned  upon  his  heel  after  sporting  his  very 
best  bow.  The  next  day  he  was  at  his  post  at  seven  o'clock. 
Mazarin  made  him  wait  till  ten.  He  remained  patiently  in 
the  antechamber;  his  turn  being  come,  he  entered;  Maz- 
>arin  gave  him  a  sealed  packet.  Upon  the  envelope  of  this 
i packet  were  these  words:  "A  Monsieur  Michel  Letellier, 
etc."  Colbert  looked  at  the  packet  with  much  attention;  the 
cardinal  put  on  a  pleasant  countenance,  and  pushed  him 
(toward  the  door. 

"And  the  letter  of  the  queen-mother,  monsieur?"  asked 
(Colbert. 

"It  is  with  the  rest,  in  the  packet,"  said  Mazarin. 

"Oh!  very  well,"  replied  Colbert;  and  placing  his  hat 
'between  his  knees,  he  began  to  unseal  the  packet. 

Mazarin  uttered  a  cry.  "What  are  you  doing?"  said  he 
angrily. 

"I  am  unsealing  the  packet,  monseigneur." 

"You  mistrust  me,  then,  Master  Cuistre,  do  you?  Did 
j,ny  one  ever  see  such  impertinence?" 

"Oh!    monseigneur,  do  not  be  angry  with  me!    it  is  ce~ 


288  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

tainly  not  your  eminence's  word  I  place  in  doubt,  God  for- 
bid!" 

"What  then?" 

"It  is  the  carefulness  of  your  chancery,  monseigneur. 
What  is  a  letter?  A  rag.  May  not  a  rag  be  forgotten? 
And,  look,  monseigneur,  look  if  I  was  not  right.  Your 
clerks  have  forgotten  the  rag;  the  letter  is  not  in  the 
packet." 

"You  are  an  insolent  fellow,  and  you  have  not  looked," 
cried  Mazarin  very  angrily.  "Be  gone,  and  wait  my 
pleasure," 

While  saying  these  words,  with  subtlety  perfectly  Italian, 
he  snatched  the  packet  from  the  hands  of  Colbert,  and  re- 
entered his  apartments. 

But  this  anger  could  not  last  so  long  as  not  to  be  replaced 
in  time  by  reason.  Mazarin,  every  morning,  on  opening 
his  closet  door,  found  the  figure  of  Colbert  as  a  sentinel  be- 
hind the  bench,  and  this  disagreeable  figure  never  failed  to 
ask  him  humbly,  but  with  tenacity,  for  the  queen-mother's 
letter.  Mazarin  could  hold  out  no  longer,  and  was  obliged 
to  give  it  up.  He  accompanied  this  restitution  with  a  most 
severe  reprimand,  during  which  Colbert  contented  himself 
with  examining,  feeling,  even  smelling,  as  it  were,  the  paper, 
the  characters,  and  the  signature,  neither  more  nor  less 
than  if  he  had  to  do  with  the  greatest  forger  in  the  king- 
dom. Mazarin  behaved  more  rudely  still  to  him,  but  Col- 
bert, still  impassible,  having  obtained  a  certainty  that  the 
letter  was  the  true  one,  went  off  as  if  he  had  been  deaf. 
This  conduct  afterward  was  worth  the  post  of  Joubert  to 
him;  for  Mazarin,  instead  of  bearing  malice,  admired  him, 
and  was  desirous  of  attaching  so  much  fidelity  to  himself. 

It  may  be  judged  by  this  single  anecdote  what  the  char- 
acter of  Colbert  was.  Events,  developing  themselves,  by 
degrees  allowed  all  the  powers  of  his  friend  to  act  freely. 
Colbert  was  not  long  in  insinuating  himself  into  the  good 
graces  of  the  cardinal;  he  became  even  indispensable  to 
him.  The  clerk  was  acquainted  with  all  his  accounts,  with- 
out the  cardinal's  ever  having  spoken  to  him  about  them. 
This  secret  between  them  was  a  powerful  tie,  and  this  was 
why,  when  about  to  appear  before  the  Master  of  another 
world,  Mazarin  was  desirous  of  taking  good  counsel  in  dis- 
posing of  the  wealth  he  was  so  unwillingly  obliged  to  leave 
in  this  world.  After  the  visit  to  Guenaud,  he  therefore 
sent  for  Colbert,  desired  him  to  sit  down,  and  said  to  him 
"Let  us  converse,  Monsieur  Colbert,  and  seriously,  for  I 
am  very  sick,  and  I  may  chance  tc  diet" 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  280 

"Man  is  mortal,"  replied  Colbert. 

"I  have  always  remembered  that,  Monsieur  Colbert,  and 
1  have  worked  in  that  prevision.  You  know  that  I  have 
amassed  a  little  wealth." 

"I  know  you  have,  monseigneur." 

"At  how  much  do  you  estimate,  as  near  as  you  can,  the 
amount  of  this  wealth,  Monsieur  Colbert?" 

"At  forty  millions,  five  hundred  and  sixty  thousand,  two 
hundred  livres,  nine  sous,  eight  deniers,"  replied  Colbert. 

The  cardinal  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  and  looked  at  Colbert 
with  wonder;  but  he  allowed  a  smile  to  steal  across  his  lips. 

"Property  known,"  added  Colbert,  in  reply  to  that 
smile. 

The  cardinal  made  quite  a  start  in  his  bed.  "What  do 
you  mean  by  that?"  said  he. 

"I  mean,"  said  Colbert,  "that  besides  those  forty  mil- 
lions, five  hundred  and  sixty  thousand,  two  hundred  livres, 
nine  sous,  eight  deniers  there  are  thirteen  millions  that 
are  not  known  of." 

"Ouf !"  sighed  Mazarin,  "what  a  man!" 

At  this  moment  the  head  of  Bernouin  appeared  through 
the  embrasure  of  the  door. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mazarin,  "and  why  do  you  disturb 
me?" 

"The  Theatin  father,  your  eminence's  director,  was  sent 
for  this  evening;  and  he  cannot  come  again  to  monseigneur 
till  after  to-morrow." 

Mazarin  looked  at  Colbert,  who  arose  and  took  his  hat, 
saying:     "I  will  come  again,  monseigneur." 

Mazarin  hesitated.  "No,  no,"  said  he,  "I  have  as  much 
business  to  transact  with  you  as  with  him.  Besides,  you 
are  my  other  confessor — and  what  I  have  to  say  to  one  the 
other  may  hear.     Kemain  where  you  are,  Colbert." 

"But,  monseigneur,  if  there  be  a  secret  of  penitence,  will 
the  director  consent  to  my  being  here?" 

"Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that;  come  into  the 
ruelle." 

"I  can  wait  outside,  monseigneur." 

"No,  no,  it  will  do  you  good  to  hear  the  confession  of  a 
rich  man." 

Colbert  bowed,  and  went  into  the  ruelle. 

"Introduce  the  Theatin  father,"  said  Mazarin,  closing 
the  curiains. 


390  THE  VICOMTE   DB   BRAGELONNE 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

CONFESSION    OF   A    MAN    OF   WEALTH. 

The  Theatin  entered  deliberately,  without  teing  too 
much  astonished  at  the  noise  and  agitation  which  anxiety 
for  the  health  of  the  cardinal  had  raised  in  his  household. 
"Come  in,  my  reverend  father,"  said  Mazariu,  after  a  last 
look  at  the  ruelle,  "come  in,  and  console  me." 

"That  :s  my  duty,  monseigneur,"  replied  the  Theatin. 

"Commence  by  sitting  down,  and  making  yourself  com- 
fortable, for  I  am  going  to  begin  by  a  general  confession; 
you  will  afterward  give  me  a  good  absolution,  and  I  shall 
oelieve  myself  more  tranquil." 

"Monseigneur,"  said  the  father,  "you  are  not  so  ill  as  to 
make  a  general  confession  urgent — and  it  will  be  very 
fatiguing — take  care." 

"You  suspect,  then,  that  it  may  be  long,  father?" 

"How  can  I  think  it  otherwise,  when  a  man  has  lived  so 
completely  as  your  eminence  has  done?" 

"Ah!  that  is  true! — yes — the  recital  may  be  long." 

"The  mercy  of  God  is  great,"  snuffled  the  Theatin. 

"Stop,"  said  Mazarin;  "there  I  begin  to  terrify  myself 
with  having  allowed  so  many  things  to  pass  which  the  Lord 
might  reprove." 

"Is  not  that  always  so?"  said  the  Theatin  naively,  remov- 
ing further  from  the  lamp  his  thin,  pointed  face,  like  that 
of  a  mole.  "Sinners  are  so;  forgetful  beforehand,  and 
scrupulous  when  it  is  too  late." 

"Sinners?"  replied  Mazarin.  "Do  you  use  that  word 
ironically,  and  to  reproach  me  with  all  the  genealogies  I 
have  allowed  to  be  made  on  my  account — 1 — the  son  of  a 
fisherman,  in  fact."  * 

"Hum!"  said  the  Theatin. 

'That  is  a  first  sin,  father;  for  I  have  allowed  myself  to 
be  made  to  be  descended  from  two  old  Roman  consuls,  S. 
Geganius  Macerinns  1st,  Macerinus  2d,  and  Proculus  Mac- 
erinus  3d,  of  whom  the  Chronicle  of  Haolander  speaks. 
From  Macerinus  to  Mazarin  the  proximity  was  tempting. 
Macerinus,  a  diminutive,  means  leanish.  poorish.  out  of  ease. 
Oh!    reverent   father!    Mazarini   may  now  be  carried  to  th6 

*This  is  quite  untranslatable,  it  being  a  play  upon  the  words peeheu%. 

ft  Mfloer,  aod  pfchtur,  &  flsberaiap.    H  js.  jc  vt?ry  bad  teste,- TiiA«». 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BKAGELOTOTE.  291 

(augmentative  Maigre,  thin  as  Lazarus.  Look!"  and  he 
showed  his  fleshless  arm. 

"In  your  having  been  born  of  a  family  of  fishermen 
[peclieurs),  I  see  nothing  injurious  to  you;  for  St.  Peter  was 
a  fisherman;  and  if  you  are  a  prince  of  the  church,  mon- 
seigneur,  he  was  the  supreme  head  of  it.  Pass  on,  if  you 
please." 

"So  much  the  more  for  my  having  threatened  with  the 
IBastile  a  certain  Bounet,  a  priest  of  Avignon,  who  wanted  to 
publish  a  genealogy  of  the  Casa  Mazarini  much  too  mar- 
velous." 

"To  be  probable?"  replied  the  Theatin. 

"Oh!  if  I  had  acted  up  to  his  idea,  father,  that  would 
have  been  the  vice  of  pride — another  sin." 

"It  was  excess  of  wit,  and  a  person  is  not  to  be  re- 
proached with  such  sorts  of  abuses.     Pass  on,  pass  on!" 

"I  was  all  pride.  Look  you,  father,  I  will  endeavor  to 
divide  that  from  capital  sins." 

"I  like  divisions,  when  well  made." 

"I  am  glad  of  that.  You  must  know  that  in  1630 — alas! 
that  is  thirty-one  years  ago " 

"You  were  then  twenty-nine  years  old,  monseigneur." 

"A  hot-headed  age.  I  was  then  something  of  "  soldier, 
and  I  threw  myself  at  Casal  into  the  arquebusades,  to  show 
that  I  rode  on  horseback  as  well  as  an  officer.  It  is  true, 
II  restored  peace  between  the  French  and  the  Spaniards. 
That  redeems  my  sin  a  little." 

"I  see  no  sin  in  being  able  to  ride  well  on  horseback," 
said  the  Theatin;  "that  is  in  perfect  good  taste,  and  does 
honor  to  our  gown.  In  my  quality  of  a  Christian,  I  ap- 
prove of  your  having  prevented  the  effusion  of  blood;  in  my 
quality  of  a  monk,  I  am  proud  of  the  bravery  a  monk  has 
exhibited." 

Mazarin  bowed  his  head  humbly.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "but 
i  the  consequences?" 

"What  consequences?" 

"Eh!  that  damned  sin  of  pride  has  roots  without  end. 
From  the  time  that  I  threw  myself  in  that  manner  between 
two  armies,  that  I  had  smelled  powder  and  faced  lines  of 
soldiers,  I  have  held  generals  a  little  in  contempt." 

"Ah!"  said  the  father. 

"There  is  the  evil;  so  that  I  have  not  thought  one  sup- 
portable since  that  time." 

"The  fact  is,"  said  the  Theatin,  "that  the  generals  we, 
have  had  have  not  been  remarkable." 


292  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAOELONKB. 

"Oh!"  cried  Mazarin,  "there  was  Monsieur  le  Prince.  I 
have  tormented  him  thoroughly!" 

"He  is  not  much  to  be  pitied;  he  has  acquired  sufficient 
glory  and  sufficient  wealth." 

"That  may  be,  for  Monsieur  le  Prince;  but  Monsieur 
Beaufort,  for  example — whom  I  made  suffer  so  long  in  the 
dungeon  of  Vincennes?" 

"Ah!  but  he  was  a  rebel,  and  the  safety  of  the  state  re- 
quired that  you  should  make  a  sacrifice.     Pass  on!" 

"I  believe  I  have  exhausted  pride.  There  is  another  sin 
which  I  am  afraid  to  qualify." 

"I  will  qualify  it  myself.     Tell  it." 

"A  great  sin,  reverend  father." 
'We  shall  judge,  monseigneur." 

"You  cannot  fail  to  have  heard  of  certain  relations 
which  I  have  had — with  her  majesty  the  queen-mother — 
the  malevolent " 

"The  malevolent,  monseigneur,  are  fools.  Was  it  not 
necessary,  for  the  good  of  the  state  and  the  interests  of  the 
young  king,  that  you  should  live  in  good  intelligence  with 
the  queen?     Pass  on,  pass  on." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Mazarin,  "you  remove  a  terrible 
weight  from  my  breast." 

"These  are  all  trifles — look  for  something  serious." 

"I  have  had  much  ambition,  father." 

"That  is  the  march  of  great  minds  and  things,  mon- 
seigneur." 

"Even  that  trifle  of  the  tiara?" 

"To  be  pope  is  to  be  the  first  of  Christians.  Why  should 
you  not  desire  that?" 

"It  has  been  printed  that,  to  gain  that  object,  I  have 
sold  Cambrai  to  the  Spaniards." 

"You  have,  perhaps,  yourself  written  pamphlets  without 
too  much  persecuting  pamphleteers." 

"Then,  reverend  father,  I  have  truly  a  clean  breast.  I 
feel  nothing  remaining  but  slight  peccadilloes." 

"What  are  they?" 

"Play." 

"That  is  rather  mundane;  but  you  were  obliged  by  the 
duties  of  greatness  to  keep  a  good  house." 

"I  like  to  win." 

"No  player  plays  to  lose." 

"i  cheated  a  little." 

"You  took  your  advantage.     Pass  on." 

"Well,  reverend  father,  I  feel  nothing  else  upon  my  con- 


THE    V1C0MTE  DE   BRAGELON"NE.  293 

science.  Give  me  absolution,  and  my  soul  will  be  ables 
when  God  shah  please  to  call  it,  to  mount  without  obstacle 
to  the  throne " 

The  Theatin  moved  neither  his  arms  nor  his  lips*  "What 
are  you  waiting  for,  father?"  said  Mazarin. 

"I  am  waiting  for  the  end." 

"The  end  of  what?" 

"Of  the  confession,  monsieur.'' 

"But  I  have  ended." 

"Oh,  no;  your  eminence  is  mistaken." 

"Not  that  I  know  of." 

'"'Search  diligently." 

"I  have  searched  as  well  as  possible." 

"Then  I  will  assist  your  memory." 

"Do." 

The  Theatin  coughed  several  times.  "You  have  said 
nothing  of  avarice,  another  capital  sin,  nor  of  those  mil- 
lions," said  he. 

"Of  what  millions,  father?" 

"Why,  of  those  you  possess,  monseigneur." 

"Father,  that  money  is  mine.  Why  should  I  speak  to 
you  about  that?" 

"Because,  you  see,  our  opinions  differ.  You  say  that 
money  is  yours,  while  I,  I  believe  it  is  rather  the  property 
of  others." 

Mazarin  lifted  his  cold  hand  to  his  brow,  which  was 
dewed  with  sweat.     "How  so?"  stammered  he. 

"This  way.  Your  excellency  has  gained  much  wealth — 
in  the  service  of  the  king." 

"Hum!  much — that  is,  not  too  much." 

"Whatever  it  may  be,  whence  came  that  wealth?" 

"From  the  state." 

"The  state;  that  is  the  king." 

"But  what  do  you  conclude  from  that  father?"  said 
Mazarin,  who  began  to  tremble. 

"I  cannot  conclude  without  seeing  a  list  of  the  riches 
you  possess.  Let  us  reckon  a  little,  if  you  please.  You 
have  the  bishopric  of  Metz?" 

"Yes." 

"The  abbeys  of  St.  Clement,  St.  Arnould,  and  St.  Vin- 
cent, all  at  Metz?" 

"Yes." 

"You  have  the  abbey  of  St.  Denis,  in  France — a  magnify 
cent  property?" 

"Yes,  father." 


294  THE    TICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"You  have  the  abbey  ol  Ciuny, which  is  rich?" 

"I  have." 

"That  of  St.  MidarS,  at  Soisson,  with  a  revenua  of  on3 
hundred  thousand  livres?" 

"I  cannot  deny  it." 

"That  of  St.  Victor,  at  Marseilles,  one  of  the  best  in  the 
south?" 

"Yes,  father.'; 

"A  good  million  a  year.  With  the  emoluments  of  th# 
eardinalship  and  the  ministry,  I  say  too  little  when  I  say 
two  millions  a  year." 

"Eh?" 

"In  ten  years  that  is  twenty  millions,  and  twenty  millions 
placed  out  at  fifty  per  cent,  give,  by  progression,  twenty- 
three  millions  in  ten  years." 

"How  well  you  reckon  for  a  Theatin." 

"Since  your  eminence  placed  our  order  in  the  convent  we 
occupy,  near  St.  Germain  des  Pres,  in  1641,  I  have  kept  the 
accounts  of  the  society." 

"And  mine  likewise,  apparently,  father." 

"One  ought  to  know  a  little  of  everything,  monseigneur." 

"Very  well.     Conclude,  at  present " 

"I  conclude  that  your  baggage  is  too  heavy  to  allow  you 
to  pass  through  the  gates  of  Paradise." 

"Shall  I  be  damned?" 

"If  you  do  not  make  restitution,  yes." 

Mazarin  uttered  a  piteous  cry.  "Restitution!  but  to 
whom,  good  God?" 

"To  the  owner  of  that  money,  to  the  king." 

"But  the  king  did  not  give  it  me  all.'' 

"A  moment:  does  not  the  king  sign  the  ordinances?" 

Mazarin  passed  from  sighs  to  groans.  "Absolution!  abso- 
/ution!"  cried  he. 

"Impossible,  monseigneur.  Restitution!  restitution!" 
replied  the  Theatin. 

"'But  you  absolve  me  from  all  other  sins,  why  not  from 
that?" 

"Because,"  replied  the  father,  "to  absolve  you  for  tha^ 
motive  would  be  a  sin  from  which  the  king  would  never 
absolve  me,  monseigneur." 

Thereupon  the  confessor  quitted  his  penitent  with  an  air 
full  of  compunction.  He  then  went  out  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  he  had  entered. 

"Oh,  good  God!"  groaned  the  cardinal.  "Come  here, 
Colbert;  I  am  very,  very  ill  indeed,  my  friend." 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRA.GELONNE.  295 

CHAPTER   XLVI. 

THE   DONATION, 

Colbert  reappeared  beneath  the  curtains. 

"Have  you  heard?"  said  Mazarin. 

"Alas!  yes,  monseigneur." 

"Can  he  be  right?  Can  all  this  money  be  badly  ac- 
quired?" 

"A  Theatin,  monseigneur,  is  a  bad  judge  of  matters  of 
finance,"  repled  Colbert  coolly.  "And  yet  it  is  very  possi- 
ble that,  according  to  his  theological  ideas,  your  eminence 
has  been,  in  a  certain  degree,  wrong.  People  generally 
find  they  have  been  so  when  they  die." 

"In  the  first  place,  they  commit  the  wrong  of  dying, 
Colbert." 

"That  is  true,  monseigneur.  Against  whom,  however, 
did  the  Theatin  make  out  that  you  had  committed  these 
wrongs?    Against  the  king?" 

Mazarin  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "As  if  I  had  not  snved 
both  his  state  and  his  finances." 

"That  admits  of  no  contradiction,  monseigneur." 

"Does  it?  Then  I  have  received  a  merely  legitimate 
salary,  in  spite  of  the  opinion  of  my  confessor?" 

"That  is  beyond  doubt." 

•'And  I  might  fairly  keep  for  my  own  family,  which  is 
so  needy,  a  good  fortune,  the  whole  even  of  what  I  have 
gained?" 

"I  see  no  impediment  to  that,  monseigneur." 

"I  felt  assured  that  in  consulting  you,  Colbert,  I  should 
have  sage  advice,"  replied  Mazarin,  greatly  delighted. 

Colbert  resumed  his  pedantic  lo^k.  "Monseigneur," 
interrupted  he,  "I  think  it  would  be  quite  as  well  to  ex- 
amine whether  what  the  Theatin  said  is  not  a  snare." 

"Oh,  no;  a  snare?  What  for?  The  Theatin  is  an  honest 
man." 

"He  believed  your  eminence  to  be  at  the  gates  of  the 
tomb  because  your  eminence  consulted  him.  Did  I  not 
hear  him  say:  'Distinguish  that  which  the  king  has  given 
jou  from  that  which  you  have  given  yourself.'  Recollect, 
monseigneur,  if  he  did  not  say  something  like  that  to  you? 
That  is  quite  a  theatrical  speech," 

"That  is  possible." 

"In  which  case,  monseigneur,  I  should  consider  you  as 
required  by  the  Theatin  to " 

"To  make  restitution!"  cried  Mazarin,  with,  great  warmth. 

"Ehl    I  do  not  say  do 


296  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONKE. 

"What!  of  all?  You  do  not  dream  of  such  a  thing! 
You  speak  just  as  the  confessor  did." 

''To  make  restitution  of  a  part,  that  is  to  say,  his 
majesty's  part;  and  that,  monseigneur,  may  have  its  dan- 
gers. Your  eminenceis  too  skillful  a  politician  not  to  know 
that,  at  this  moment,  the  king  does  not  possess  a  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  livres  clear  in  his  coffers." 

"That  is  not  my  affair,"  said  Mazarin  triumphantly; 
"that  belongs  to  Monsieur  le  Surintendant  Fouquet,  whose 
accounts  I  have  given  you  to  verify  for  months  past." 

Colbert  bit  his  lips  at  the  name  only  c>f  Fouquet.  "His 
majesty,"  said  he,  between  his  teeth,  "has  no  money  but 
that  which  Monsieur  Fouquet  collects;  your  money,  mon- 
seigneur, would  afford  him  a  delicious  banquet." 

"Well,  but  I  am  not  the  surintendant  of  his  majesty's 
6nances — I  have  my  purse — certes,  I  would  do  much  for 
his  majesty's  welfare — some  legacy — but  I  cannot  disappoint 
my  family." 

"The  legacy  of  a  part  would  dishonor  you  and  offend  the 
king.  Leaving  a  part  to  his  majesty  is  to  avow  that  that 
part  has  inspired  you  with  doubts  as  not  being  acquired 
legitimately." 

"Monsieur  Colbert!" 

"I  thought  your  eminence  did  me  the  honor  to  ask  my 
advice?" 

"Yes;  but  you  are  ignorant  of  the  principal  details  of  the 
question." 

"I  am  ignorant  of  nothing,  monseigneur;  during  ten 
vears,  all  the  columns  of  figures  which  are  found  in  France 
have  passed  in  review  before  me;  and  if  I  have  painfully 
nailed  them  into  my  brain;  they  are  there  now  so  well 
riveted,  that,  from  the  office  of  Monsieur  Letellier,  which  is 
sober,  to  the  little  secret  largesses  of  Monsieur  Fouquet,  who 
is  prodigal,  I  could  recite,  figure  by  figure,  all  the  money  that 
is  spent  in  France,  from  Marseilles  to  Cherbourg." 

"Then  you  would  have  me  throw  all  my  money  into  the 
coffers  of  the  king!"  cried  Mazarin  ironically,  and  from 
whom,  at  the  same  time,  the  gout  forced  painful  moans. 
"Certes,  the  king  would  reproach  me  with  nothing,  but  he 
would  laugh  at  me,  while  squandering  my  millions,  and 
with  reason." 

'  Y  yci  eminence  has  misunderstood  me.  I  did  not,  the 
least  in  the  world,  pretend  that  his  majesty  ought  to  spend 
your  money." 

"You  said  so  clearly,  it  seems  to  me,  when  you  advised 
Hie  to  give  it  to  him." 


THE  VICOMTE   t>E   BRAGELONNE.  29* 

''Ah,"  replied  Colbert,  "tnat  is  because  your  eminence, 
absorbed  as  you  are  by  your  disease,  entirely  loses  sight  of 
the  character  of  Louis  XIV." 

"How  so?" 

"That  character,  if  I  may  venture  to  express  myself  thus, 
resembles  that  which  monseigneur  confessed  just  now  to 
the  Theatin." 

"Go  on— that  is?" 

"Pride!  Pardon  me,  monseigneur,  haughtiness,  noble. 
Hess;  kings  have  no  pride,  that  is  a  human  passion." 

"Pride,  yes,  you  are  right.     Next?" 

"Well,  monseigneur,  if  I  have  divined  rightly,  your  em 
inence  has  but  to  give  all  your  money  to  the  king,  and  that 
;mmediately." 

"But  for  what?"  said  Mazarin,  quite  bewildered. 

"Because  the  king  will  not  accept  of  the  whole." 

"What,  and  he  a  young  man,  and  devoured  by  ambition?*' 

"Just  so." 

"A  young  man  who  is  anxious  for  my  death!" 

''Monseigneur!" 

"To  inherit,  yes,  Colbert,  yes;  he  is  anxious  for  my  death, 
in  order  to  inherit.  Triple  fool  that  I  am!  I  would  pre- 
vent him!" 

"Exactly;  if  the  donation  were  made  in  a  certain  form, 
he  would  refuse  it." 

"Well;  but  how?" 

"That  is  plain  enough.  A  young  man  who  has  yet  done 
nothing — who  burns  to  distinguish  himself — who  burns  to 
reign  alone,  will  never  take  anything  ready  built,  he  will 
construct  for  himself.  This  prince,  monseigneur,  will 
never  be  content  with  the  Palais  Boyal,  which  Monsieur  de 
Kichelieu  left  him;  nor  with  the  Palais  Mazarin,  which  you 
have  caused  to  be  so  superbly  constructed;  nor  with  the 
Louvre,  which  his  ancestors  inhabited;  nor  with  St. 
Germains,  where  he  was  born.  All  that  does  not  proceed 
from  himself,  I  predict  he  will  disdain." 

"And  you  will  guarantee  that  if  I  give  my  forty  millions 
to  the  king " 

"Saying  certain  things  to  him  at  the  same  time,  I  guaran 
tee  he  will  refuse  them." 

"But  those  things — what  are  they?" 

"I  will  write  them,  if  monseigneur  will  have  the  good' 
ness  to  dictate  them." 

"Well,  but,  after  all,  what  advantage  will  that  be  to  me?" 

"An  enormous  one.  Nobody  will  afterward  be  able  to 
accuse  your  eminence  oL  that  uniust  avarice  with  whi^' 


298  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

pamphleteers  have  reproached  the  most  brilliant  mind  of 
the  present  age." 

"You  are  right,  Colbert,  you  are  right;  go,  and  seek  the 
king,  on  my  part,  and  carry  him  my  will." 

"Your  donation,  monseigneur." 

"But  if  he  should  accept  it?  If  he  should  even  think  of 
accepting  it?" 

"Then  there  would  remain  thirteen  millions  for  your 
family,  and  that  is  a  good  round  sum." 

"But  then  you  would  be  either  a  fool  or  a  traitor." 

"And  I  am  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  monseigneur. 
You  appear  to  be  much  afraid  the  king  will  accept;  you 
have  a  deal  more  reason  to  fear  that  he  will  not  accept. 

"But,  see  you,  if  he  does  not  accept,  I  should  like  to 
guarantee  my  thirteen  reserved  millions  to  him — yes,  I  will 
do  so — yes.  But  my  pains  are  returning!  I  shall  faint!  I 
am  very,  very  ill,  Colbert;  I  am  very  near  my  end!" 

Colbert  started.  The  cardinal  was  indeed  very  ill;  large 
drops  of  sweat  flowed  down  upon  his  bed  of  agony,  and  the 
frightful  paleness  of  a  face  streaming  with  water  was  a 
spectacle  which  the  most  hardened  practitioner  could  not 
have  beheld  without  compassion.  Colbert  was,  without 
doubt,  very  much  affected,  for  he  quitted  the  chamber, 
calling  Bernouin  to  attend  the  dying  man,  and  went  into 
the  corridor.  There,  walking  about  with  a  meditative  ex- 
pression, which  almost  gave  nobleness  to  his  vulgar  head, 
his  shoulders  thrown  up,  his  neck  stretched  out,  his  lips 
half  open,  to  give  vent  to  unconnected  fragments  of  in- 
coherent thoughts,  he  lashed  up  his  courage  to  the  pitch 
of  the  undertaking  contemplated,  while  within  ten  paces  of 
him,  separated  only  by  a  Avail,  his  master  was  being  stifled 
by  anguish  which  drew  from  him  lamentable  cries,  think- 
ing no  more  of  the  treasures  of  the  earth,  or  of  the  joys  of 
Paradise,  but  much  of  all  the  horrors  of  hell.  "While  burn- 
ing-hot napkins,  topicals,  revulsives,  and  Guenaud,  who 
was  recalled,  were  performing  their  functions  with  increased 
activity,  Colbert,  holding  his  great  head  in  both  his  hands, 
to  compress  within  it  the  fever  of  the  projects  engendered 
by  the  brain,  was  meditating  the  tenor  of  the  donation  he 
would  make  Mazarin  write  at  the  first  hour  of  respite  his 
disease  should  afford  him.  It  would  appear  as  if  all  the 
cries  of  the  cardinal,  and  all  the  attacks  of  death  upon  this 
representative  of  the  past,  were  stimulants  for  the  genius  of 
this  thinker  with  the  bushy  eyebrows,  who  was  turning 
already  toward  the  rising  of  the  new  sun  of  a  regenerated 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  209 

society.  Colbert  resumed  his  place  at  Mazarin's  pillow  tit 
the  first  interval  of  pain,  and  persuaded  him  to  dictate  a 
donation  thus  conceived. 

"About  to  appear  before  God,  the  Master  of  mankind,  I 
beg  the  king,  who  was  my  master  on  earth,  to  resume  the 
wealth  which  his  bounty  has  bestowed  upon  me,  and  which 
my  family  would  be  happy  to  see  pass  into  such  illustrious 
hands.  The  particulars  of  my  property  will  be  found — they 
are  drawn  up — at  the  first  requisition  of  his  majesty,  or  at 
the  last  sight  of  his  most  devoted  servant. 

"Jules,  Cardinal  de  Mazarin." 

The  cardinal  sighed  heavily  as  he  signed  this;  Colbert 
sealed  the  packet,  and  carried  it  immediately  to  the  Louvre, 
whither  the  king  had  returned. 

He  then  went  back  to  his  own  home,  rubbing  his  hands 
with  the  confidence  of  a  workman  who  has  done  a  good 
day's  work. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

HOW   ANNE     OF   AUSTRIA     GAVE   ONE     PIECE   OF    ADVICE    TO 
LOUIS   XIV.,    AND  HOW  M.  FOUQUET  GAVE  HIM  ANOTHER. 

The  news  of  the  extremity  into  which  the  cardinal  had 
fallen  had  already  spread,  and  attracted  at  least  as  much 
attention  among  the  people  of  the  Louvre  as  the  news  of 
the  marriage  of  Monsieur,  the  king's  brother,  which  had 
already  been  announced  as  an  official  fact.  Scarcely  had 
Louis  XIV.  returned  home,  with  his  thoughts  fully  occu- 
pied with  the  various  things  he  had  seen  and  heard  in  the 
course  of  the  evening,  when  an  usher  announced  that  the 
same  crowd  of  courtiers  who,  in  the  morning,  had  thronged 
his  lever,  presented  themselves  again  at  his  couclier,  a  re- 
markable piece  of  respect  which,  during  the  reign  of  the 
cardinal,  the  court,  not  very  discreet  in  its  preferences, 
had  accorded  to  the  minister,  without  caring  about  dis- 
pleasing the  king. 

But  the  minister  had  had.  as  we  have  said,  an  alarming 
attack  of  gout,  and  the  tide  of  flattery  was  mounting  toward 
the  throne.  Courtiers  have  a  marvelous  instinct  in  scent- 
ing events  beforehand;  courtiers  possess  a  supreme  kind  of 
science;  they  are  diplomatists  to  throw  a  light  upon  tho 


300  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BltAGELOHTKft. 

unraveling  of  difficult  circumstances,  captains  to  divine  the 
issue  of  battles,  and  physicians  to  cure  the  sick.  Louis 
XIV.,  to  whom  his  mother  had  taught  this  axiom,  among 
many  others,  understood  at  once  that  M.  le  Cardinal  must 
be  very  ill.  Scarcely  had  Anne  of  Austria  conducted  the 
young  queen  to  her  apartments  and  relieved  her  brows  of 
the  headdress  of  ceremony,  when  she  went  to  see  her  son 
in  his  cabinet,  where,  alone,  melancholy  and  depressed,  hs 
was  indulging,  as  if  to  exercise  his  will,  in  one  of  those  ter- 
rible inward  passions — king's  passions — which  create  events 
when  they  break  out,  and  which,  with  Louis  XIV,,  thanks 
to  his  astonishing  command  over  himself,  became  such 
benign  tempests  that  his  most  violent,  his  only  passion, 
that  which  F.  Simon  mentions  with  astonishment,  was  that 
famous  passion  of  anger  which  he  exhibited  fifty  years  later, 
on  the  occasion  of  a  little  concealment  of  the  Due  de 
Maine,  and  which  had  for  result  a  shower  of  blows  inflicted 
with  a  cane  upon  the  back  of  a  poor  valet  who  had  stolen  a 
biscuit.  The  young  king  then  was,  as  we  have  seen,  prey 
to  a  double  excitement;  and  he  said  to  himself  as  he  looked 
in  a  glass,  "Oh,  king!  king  by  name,  and  not  in  fact;  phan- 
tom, vain  phantom  as  thou  art!  inert  statue,  which  has  no 
other  power  than  that  of  provoking  salutations  from  cour- 
tiers, when  wilt  thou  be  able  to  raise  thy  velvet  arm,  or 
clinch  thy  silken  hand?  when  wilt  thou  be  able  to  open  for 
any  purpose,  but  to  sigh  or  smile,  lips  condemned  to  the 
motionless  stupidity  of  the  marbles  of  thy  gallery?" 

Then,  passing  his  hand  over  his  brow,  and  feeling  the 
want  of  air,  he  approached  a  window,  whence  he  saw  below 
some  cavaliers  talking  together,  and  groups  of  the  timidly 
curious.  These  cavaliers  were  a  fraction  of  the  watch;  the 
groups  were  busy  portions  of  the  people,  to  whom  a  king  is 
always  a  curious  thing,  as  a  rhinoceros,  a  crocodile,  or  a 
serpent  is.  He  struck  his  brow  with  his  open  hand,  crying: 
"King  of  France!  what  a  title!  People  of  France!  what  a 
heap  of  creatures!  I  have  just  returned  to  my  Louvre;  my 
horses,  just  unharnessed,  are  still  smoking,  and  I  have 
created  interest  enough  to  induce  scarcely  twenty  persons 
to  look  at  me  as  I  passed.  Twenty!  what  do  I  say?  no;  there 
were  not  twenty  anxious  to  see  the  King  of  France.  There 
are  not  even  ten  archers  to  guard  my  place  of  residence; 
archers,  people,  guards,  all  are  at  the  Palais  Royal. 
Why,  my  good  God!  have  not  I,  the  king,  the  right  to  ask 
of  you  all  that?" 

"Because,"   said   a  voice,   replying  to   his,   and  which 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    JIRAGELONN'E.  301 

sounded  from  the  other  side  of  the  door  of  the  cabinet, 
"because  at  the  Palais  Royal  there  is  all  the  gold — that  is 
to  say,  all  the  power  of  him  who  desires  to  reign. " 

Louis  turned  sharply  round.  The  voice  which  had  pro- 
nounced these  words  was  that  of  Anne  of  Austria.  The 
king  started,  and  advanced  toward  her.  "I  hope,"  said 
he,  "your  majesty  has  paid  no  attention  to  the  vain  dec- 
lamations with  which  the  solitude  and  disgust  familiar  to 
kings  give  the  idea  to  the  happiest  characters?" 

"I  only  paid  attention  to  one  thing,  my  son,  and  that 
was,  that  you  were  complaining." 

"Who,  I?  Not  at  all,"  said  Louis  XIV.;  "no,  in  truth, 
you  mistake,  madame." 

"What  were  you  doing,  then?" 

"I  thought  I  was  under  the  ferule  of  my  professor,  and 
was  developing  a  subject  of  amplification." 

"My  son,"  replied  Anne  of  Austria,  shaking  her  head, 
"you  are  wrong  not  to  trust  to  my  word;  you  are  wrong  not 
to  grant  me  your  confidence.  A  day  will  come,  perhaps 
quickly,  wherein  you  will  have  occasion  to  remember  that 
axiom:  God  is  universal  power;  and  they  alone  are  kings 
who  are  all-powerful." 

"Your  intention,"  continued  the  king,  "was  not,  how- 
ever, to  cast  blame  upon  the  rich  of  this  age,  was  it?" 

"No,"  said  the  queen  warmly;  "no,  sire;  they  who  are 
rich  in  this  age,  under  your  reign,  are  rich  because  you  have 
been  willing  they  should  be  so;  and  I  entertain  for  them 
neither  malice  nor  envy.  They  have,  without  doubt, 
served  your  majesty  sufficiently  well  for  your  majesty  to 
have  permitted  them  to  reward  themselves.  That  is  what  I 
mean  to  say  by  the  words  for  which  you  reproach  me." 

"God  forbid,  madame,  that  I  should  ever  reproach  my 
mother  with  anything." 

"Besides,"  continued  Anne  of  Austria,  "the  Lord  never 
gives  the  goods  of  this  world  but  for  a  season;  the  Lord — as 
correctives  to  honor  and  riches — the  Lord  has  placed  suffer- 
ings, sickness,  and  death;  and  no  one,"  added  she,  with  a 
melancholy  smile,  which  proved  she  made  the  application 
of  the  funeral  precept  to  herself,  "no  one  can  take  their 
wealth  or  their  greatness  with  them  into  the  tomb.  It 
thence  results  that  the  young  gather  the  abundant  harvest 
prepared  for  them  by  the  old." 

Louis  listened  with  increased  attention  to  the  words 
which  Anne  of  Austria,  no  doubt,  pronounced  with  a  view 
of  consoling  him. 


302  THE  VICOMTE  DE   BRAGELONNE. 

''Madame,"  said  ie,  looking  earnestly  at  his  mothef, 
"one  would  almost^  In  truth,  say  you  had  something  else  to 
announce  to  me." 

"I  have  absolutely  nothing,  my  son;  only  you  cannot  have 
failed  to  remark  that  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  is  very  ill." 

Louis  looked  at  his  mother,  expecting  some  emotion  in 
her  voice,  some  sorrow  in  her  countenance.  The  face  of 
Anne  of  Austria  was  apparently  little  changed,  but  that 
was  from  a  suffering  of  quite  a  personal  character.  Perhaps 
the  alteration  was  caused  by  the  cancer  which  had  begun 
to  consume  her  breast. 

"Yes,  madame,"  said  the  king,  "yes,  Monsieur  de  Maz- 
arin  is  very  ill." 

"And  it  would  be  a  great  loss  to  the  kingdom  if  his  em- 
inence were  to  be  called  away  by  God.  Is  not  that  yoir 
opinion  as  well  as  mine,  my  son?"  said  the  queen 

"Yes,  madame;  yes,  certainly,  it  would  be  a  great  loss 
for  the  kingdom,"  said  Louis,  coloring;  "but  the  peril  does 
not  seem  to  me  to  be  so  great;  besides,  Monsieur  le  Car- 
dinal is  young  yet." 

The  king  had  scarcely  ceased  speaking  when  an  usher 
lifted  the  tapestry,  and  stood  with  a  paper  in  his  hand, 
waiting  for  the  king  to  interrogate  him. 

"What  have  you  there?"  asked  the  king. 

"A  message  from  Monsieur  de  Mazarirf,"  replied  the 
usher. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  said  the  king;  and  he  took  the  paper. 
But  at  the  moment  he  was  about  to  open  it  there  was  a 
great  noise  in  the  gallery,  the  antechamber,  and  the  court. 

"Ah,  ah!"  said  Louis  XIV.,  who,  without  doubt,  knew 
what  the  triple  noise  meant.  "What  did  I  say,  there  was 
but  one  king  in  France?    I  was  mistaken;  there  are  two." 

As  he  spoke  or  thought  thus,  the  door  opened,  and  the 
surintendant  of  the  finances,  Fouquet,  appeared  before  his 
nominal  master.  It  was  he  who  made  the  noise  in  the  ante- 
chamber, it  was  his  horses  that  made  the  noise  in  the  court. 
In  addition  to  all  this,  a  loud  murmur  was  heard  along  his 
passage,  which  did  not  die  away  till  some  time  after  he  had 
passed.  It  was  this  murmur  which  Louis  XIV.  so  much 
regretted  not  hearing  as  he  passed,  and  dying  away  behind 
him. 

"He  is  not  precisely  a  king,  as  you  fancy,"  said  Anne  of 
Austria  to  her  son;  "he  is  only  a  man  that  is  much  too  rich 
-that  is  all." 

While  saying  these  words  »  bitter  feeling  gave  to  the 


THE  VtCOMTE  T>E   ERAGELOtftfE.'  303 

words  of  the  queen  a  most  malicious  expression;  whereas 
the  brow  of  the  king,  calm  and  self-possessed,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  without  the  slightest  wrinkle.  He  nodded, 
therefore,  familiarly  to  Fouquet,  while  he  continued  to  un- 
fold the  paper  given  to  him  by  the  usher.  Fouquet  per- 
ceived this  movement,  and  with  a  politeness  at  once  easy 
and  respectful,  advanced  toward  the  queen,  so  as  not  to 
disturb  the  king.  Louis  had  opened  the  paper,  and  yet  he 
die!  not  read  it.  He  listened  to  Fouquet  making  the  most 
charming  compliments  to  the  queen  upon  her  hand  and 
arm.  The  frown  of  Anne  of  Austria  relaxed  a  little;  she 
even  almost  smiled.  Fouquet  perceived  that  the  king,  in- 
stead of  reading,  was  attending  to  him;  he  turned  half 
round,  therefore,  and  thus,  while  continuing  to  be  engaged 
with  the  queen,  faced  the  king. 

"You  know,  Monsieur  Fouquet,"  said  Louis,  "how  ill 
Monsieur  Mazarin  is?" 

"Yes,  sire,  I  know  that,"  said  Fouquet;  "in  fact,  he  is 
very  ill.  I  was  at  my  country-house  of  Vaux  when  the  news 
reached  me;  and  the  affair  seemed  so  pressing  that  I  left  at 
once." 

"You  left  Vaux  this-  evening,  monsieur?" 

"An  hour  and  a  half  ago,  yes,  your  majesty,"  said  Fou- 
quet, consulting  a  watch  richly  ornamented  with  diamonds. 

"An  hour  and  a  half!"  said  the  king,  still  able  to  restrain 
his  anger,  but  not  to  conceal  his  astonishment. 

"I  understand  you,  sire.  Your  majesty  doubts  my  word, 
and  you  have  reason  to  do  so;  but  I  have  really  come  so 
quickly,  though  it  is  wonderful.  I  have  received  from 
England  three  pairs  of  very  fast  horses,  as  I  had  been 
assured.  They  were  placed  at  distances  of  four  leagues 
apart,  and  I  have  tried  them  this  evening.  They  really 
brought  me  from  Vaux  to  the  Louvre  in  an  hour  and  a 
half,  so  your  majesty  sees  I  have  not  been  cheated." 

The  queen -mother  smiled  with  something  like  secret 
snvy.     But  Fouquet  caught  her  thought. 

"Thus,  madame,"  he  promptly  said,  "such  horses  are 
made  for  kings,  not  for  subjects;  for  kings  ought  never  to 
yield  to  any  one  in  anything." 

The  king  looked  up. 

"And  yet,"  interrupted  Anne  of  Austria,  "you  are  not  a 
king,  that  I  know  of,  Monsieur  Fouquet." 

"Truly  not,  madame;  therefore  the  horses  only  wait  the 
orders  of  his  majesty  to  enter  the  royal  stables;  and  if  I 
illowed  myself  to  try  them,  it  was  only  out  of  the  fear  oi 


304  THE  VICOMTE  BE  BKAGELOKNE. 

offering  to  the  king  anything  that  was  not  positively  won- 
derful. " 

The  king  became  quite  red. 

"You  know,  Monsieur  Fouquet,"  said  the  queen,  "that 
at  the  court  of  France  it  is  not  the  custom  for  a  subject  to 
offer  anything  to  his  king." 

Louis  started. 

'I  hoped,  madame,"  said  Fouquet,  much  agitated,  "that 
my  love  for  his  majesty,  my  incessant  desire  to  please  him, 
would  serve  as  a  counterpoise  to  that  reason  of  etiquette. 
It  was  not,  besides,  so  much  a  present  that  I  permitted  my- 
self to  offer,  as  the  tribute  I  paid." 

"Thank  you,  Monsieur  Fouquet,"  said  the  king  politely, 
"and  I  am  gratified  by  your  intention,  for  I  love  good 
horses;  but  you  know  I  am  not  very  rich;  you,  who  are  my 
surintendant  of  finances,  know  it  better  than  any  one  else. 
I  am  not  able,  then,  however  willing  I  may  be,  to  purchase 
such  a  valuable  set  of  horses." 

Fouquet  darted  a  look  of  haughtiness  at  the  queen- 
mother,  who  appeared  to  triumph  at  the  false  position  the 
minister  had  got  into,  and  replied: 

"Luxury  is  the  virtue  of  kings,  sire;  it  is  luxury  which 
makes  them  resemble  God;  it  is  by  luxury  they  are  more 
than  other  men.  With  luxury  a  king  nourishes  his  sub- 
jects, and  honors  them.  Under  the  mild  beat  of  this 
luxury  of  kings  springs  the  luxury  of  individuals,  a  source 
of  riches  for  the  people.  His  majesty,  by  accepting  the 
gift  of  these  six  incomparable  horses,  would  have  piqued 
the  self-love  of  the  breeders  of  our  country,  of  Limousin, 
Perche,  and  Normandy;  and  this  emulation  would  have  been 
beneficial  to  all.  But  the  king  is  silent,  and  consequently, 
I  am  condemned." 

During  this  speech,  Louis  was  unconsciously  folding 
and  unfolding  Mazarin's  paper,  upon  which  he  had  not  cast 
his  eyes.  At  length  he  glanced  upon  it,  and  uttered  a  faint 
cry  at  reading  the  first  line. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  son?"  asked  the  queen  anx- 
iously, and  going  toward  the  king. 

"From  the  cardinal,"  replied  the  king,  continuing  to 
read;  "yes,  yes,  it  is  really  from  him." 

"Is  he  worse,  then?" 

"Read!"  said  the  king,  passing  the  parchment  to  his 
mother,  as  if  he  thought  that  nothing  less  than  reading 
would  convince  Anne  of  Austria  of  a  thing  so  astonishing  as 
was  conveyed  in  that  paper- 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  305 

Anne  of  Austria  read  in  her  turn,  and  as  she  read,  her 
eyes  sparkled  with  a  joy  the  more  lively  for  her  uselessly 
endeavoring  to  hide  it,  which  attracted  the  attention  of 
Fouquet. 

"Oh!  a  regularly  drawn-up  deed  of  donation/'  said  she. 

"A  donation?"  repeated  Fouquet. 

"Yes,"  said  the  king,  replying  pointedly  to  the  surin- 
tendant  of  finances,  "yes,  at  the  point  of  death,  Monsieur 
le  Cardinal  makes  me  a  donation  of  all  his  wealth." 

"Forty  millions!"  cried  the  queen.  "Oh,  my  son!  this 
is  very  noble  on  the  part  of  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,  and  will 
silence  all  malicious  rumors;  forty  millions  scraped  together 
slowly,  coming  back  all  in  one  heap  to  the  treasury!  It  is 
the  act  of  a  faithful  subject  and  a  good  Christian."  And 
having  once  more  cast  her  eyes  over  the  act,  she  restored  it 
to  Louis  XIV.,  whom  the  announcement  of  the  sum  quite 
agitated.  Fouquet  had  made  some  steps  backward,  and 
remained  silent.  The  king  looked  at  him,  and  held  the 
paper  out  to  him,  in  his  turn.  The  surintendant  only  be- 
stowed a  haughty  look  of  a  second  upon  it;  then,  bowing: 

"Yes,  sire,"  said  he,  "a  donation,  I  see." 

"You  must  reply  to  it,  my  son,"  said  Anne  of  Austria; 
"you  must  reply  to  it,  and  that  immediately." 

"But  how,  madame?" 

"By  a  visit  to  the  cardinal." 

"Why,  it  is  but  an  hour  since  I  left  his  eminence,"  said 
the  king. 

"Write,  then,  sire." 

"Write!"  said  the  young  king,  with  evident  repugnance. 

"Well,"  replied  Anne  of  Austria,  "it  seems  to  me,  my 
son,  that  a  man  who  has  just  made  such  a  present  has  a 
good  right  to  expect  to  be  thanked  for  it  with  some  degree 
of  promptitude." 

Then  turning  toward  Fouquet:  "Is  not  that  likewise 
your  opinon,  monsieur?" 

"That  the  present  is  worth  the  trouble?  Yes,  madame," 
said  Fouquet,  with  a  lofty  air  that  did  not  escape  the  king. 

"Accept,  then,  and  thank  him,"  insisted  Anne  of  Austria. 

"What  says  Monsieur  Fouquet?"  asked  Louis  XIV. 

"Does  your  majesty  wish  to  know  my  opinion?" 

"Yes." 

"Thank  him,  sire " 

"Ah!"  said  the  queen. 

"But  do  not  accept,"  continued  Fouquet. 

"And  why  not?"  asked  the  queen. 


306  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

"You  have  yourself  said  why,  madame,"  replied  Fou- 
quet;  "because  kings  ought  not  and  cannot  receive  presents 
from  their  subjects." 

The  king  remained  mute  between  these  two  so  opposita 
opinions. 

"But  forty  millions!"  said  Anne  of  Austria,  in  the  same 
tone  as  that  in  which,  at  a  later  period,  poor  Marie  Antoi- 
nette replied:  "You  will  tell  me  as  much!" 

"I  know,"  said  Fouquet,  laughing,  "forty  millions  are  a 
good  round  sum — such  a  sum  as  could  almost  tempt  a  royal 
conscience." 

"But,  monsieur,"  said  Anne  of  Austria,  "instead  of  per- 
suading the  king  not  to  receive  this  present,  recall  to  his 
majesty's  mind,  you,  whose  duty  it  is,  that  these  forty 
millions  are  a  fortune  to  him." 

"It  is  precisely,  madame,  because  these  forty  millions 
would  be  a  fortune  that  I  will  say  to  the  king,  'Sire,  if  it  be 
not  decent  for  a  king  to  accept  from  a  subject  six  horses, 
worth  twenty  thousand  livres,  it  would  be  disgraceful  for 
him  to  owe  a  fortune  to  another  subject,  more  or  less 
scrupulous  in  the  choice  of  the  materials  which  contributed 
to  the  building  up  of  that  fortune.'  " 

"It  ill  becomes  you,  monsieur,  to  give  your  king  a  lesson," 
said  Anne  of  Austria;  "rather  procure  him  forty  millions  to 
replace  those  you  make  him  lose." 

"The  king  shall  have  them  whenever  he  wishes,"  said 
the  surintendant  of  the  finances,  bowing. 

"Yes,  by  oppressing  the  people,"  said  the  queen. 

"And  were  they  not  oppressed,  madame,"  replied  Fou- 
quet, "when  they  were  made  to  sweat  the  forty  millions 
given  by  this  deed?  Furthermore,  his  majesty  has  asked 
my  opinion.  I  have  given  it;  if  his  majesty  asks  my  con- 
currence, it  will  be  the  same." 

"Nonsense!  accept,  my  son,  accept,"  said  Anne  of 
Austria.     "You  are  above  reports  and  interpretations." 

"Eefuse,  sire,"  said  Fouquet.  "As  long  as  a  king  lives, 
he  has  no  other  measure  but  his  conscience — no  other  judge 
but  his  own  desires;  but  when  dead,  he  has  posterity,  which 
applauds  or  accuses." 

"Thank  you,  mother,"  replied  Louis,  bowing  respectfully 
to  the  queen.  "Thank  you,  Monsieur  Fouquet,"  said  he, 
dismissing  the  surintendant  civilly. 

"Do  you  accept?"  asked  Anne  of  Austria,  once  more. 

"I  will  consider  of  it,"  replied  he,  looking  at  Fouquet. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BKAGELONNE.  307 

CHAPTER    XLVIII. 

AGONY. 

The  day  after  the  deed  of  donation  had  been  sent  to  the 
king,  the  cardinal  caused  himself  to  be  transported  to  Vin- 
cennes.  The  king  and  the  court  followed  him  thither. 
The  last  flashes  of  this  torch  still  cast  splendor  enough , 
around  to  absorb  in  its  radiations  all  other  lights.  Besides, 
as  it  has  been  seen,  the  faithful  satellite  of  his  minister, 
young  Louis  XIV.,  marched  to  the  last  minute  in  accord- 
ance with  his  gravitation.  The  disease,  as  Guenaud  had 
predicted,  had  become  worse;  it  was  no  longer  an  attack  of 
gout,  it  was  an  attack  of  death;  then  there  was  another  thing 
which  made  that  agony  more  agonizing  still — and  that  was 
the  agitation  introduced  into  his  mind  by  the  donation  he 
had  sent  to  the  king,  and  which,  according  to  Colbert,  the 
king  ought  to  send  back,  not  accepted,  to  the  cardinal. 
The  cardinal  had,  as  we  have  said,  great  faith  in  the  pre- 
dictions of  his  secretary;  but  the  sum  was  a  large  one,  and 
whatever  might  be  the  genius  of  Colbert,  from  time  to  time, 
the  cardinal  thought  to  himself  that  the  Theatin  also  might 
possibly  have  been  mistaken,  and  that  there  was  at  least  as 
much  chance  of  his  not  being  damned  as  there  was  that 
Louis  XIV.  would  send  him  back  his  millions.  Besides, 
the  longer  the  donation  was  in  coming  back,  the  more 
Mazarin  thought  that  forty  millions  were  worth  a  little  risk, 
particularly  of  so  hypothetic  a  thing  as  the  soul.  Mazarin, 
in  his  character  of  cardinal  and  prime  minister,  was  almost 
an  atheist,  and  quite  a  materialist.  Every  time  that  the 
•  door  opened  he  turned  sharply  round  toward  that  door,  ex- 
pecting to  see  the  return  of  his  unfortunate  donation;  then, 
deceived  in  his  hope,  he  threw  himself  down  again  in  his 
bed  with  a  sigh,  and  found  his  pains  so  much  the  greater 
for  having  forgotten  them  for  an  instant.  Anne  of  Austria 
had  also  followed  the  cardinal;  her  heart,  though  age  had 
made  it  selfish,  could  not  help  evincing  toward  the  dying 
man  a  sorrow  which  he  owed  him  as  a  wife,  according  to 
some;  and  as  a  sovereign,  according  to  others.  She  had, 
in  some  sort,  put  on  mourning  in  her  countenance  before- 
hand, and  all  the  court  wore  it  as  she  did.  Louis,  in  order 
not  to  show  on  his  face  what  was  passing  at  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  persisted  in  remaining  in  his  own  apartments, 
where  his  nurse  alone  kept  him  company;  the  more  he 
reckoned  upon  the  approach  of  the  time  when  all  constraint 


308  THE  YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

would  be  at  an  end,  the  more  humble  and  patient  he  was, 
falling  back  upon  himself,  as  all  strong  men  do  when  they 
form  great  designs,  in  order  to  gain  more  spring  at  the 
decisive  moment.  Extreme  unction  had  been  administered 
to  the  cardinal,  who,  faithful  to  his  habits  of  dissimulation, 
struggled  against  appearances,  and  even  against  reality, 
receiving  company  in  his  bed,  as  if  only  afflicted  with  a 
temporary  complaint.  Guenaud,  on  his  part,  preserved 
profound  secrecy;  fatigued  with  visits  and  questions,  he 
unswered  nothing  but  "his  eminence  is  still  full  of  youth 
and  strength,  but  God  wills  that  which  He  wills,  and  when 
He  has  decided  that  man  is  to  be  laid  low,  he  will  be  laid 
low."  These  words,  which  he  scattered  with  a  sort  of  dis- 
cretion, reserve,  and  preference,  were  commented  upon 
earnestly  by  two  persons — the  king  and  the  cardinal.  Maz- 
arin,  notAvithstanding  the  prophecy  of  Guenaud,  still  lured 
himself,  or,  rather,  so  well  played  his  part,  that  the  most 
cunning,  when  saying  he  lured  himself,  proved  that  they 
were  his  dupes.  Louis,  absent  from  the  cardinal  two  days; 
Louis,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  that  same  donation  which' so 
constantly  preoccupied  the  cardinal;  Louis  did  not  exactly 
know  how  to  make  out  Mazarin's  conduct.  The  son  of 
Louis  XIII.,  following  the  paternal  traditions,  had,  to  that 
time,  been  so  little  of  a  king  that,  while  ardently  desiring 
royalty,  he  desired  it  with  that  terror  which  always  accom- 
panies the  unknown.  Thus,  having  formed  his  resolution, 
which,  besides,  he  communicated  to  nobody,  he  determined 
to  have  an  interview  with  Mazarin.  It  was  Anne  of  Aus- 
tria, who,  constant  in  her  attendance  upon  the  cardinal, 
first  heard  this  proposition  of  the  king's,  and  who  trans- 
mitted it  to  the  dying  man,  whom  it  greatly  agitated.  Foi 
what  purpose  could  Louis  wish  for  an  interview?  Was  it 
50  return  the  deed,  as  Colbert  had  said  he  would?  Was  it 
to  keep  it,  after  thanking  him,  as  Mazarin  thought  he 
would?  Nevertheless,  as  the  dying  man  felt  that  the  un- 
certainty increased  his  torments,  he  did  not  hesitate  an 
instant. 

"His  majesty  will  be  welcome — yes,  very  welcome,"  cried 
he,  making  Colbert,  who  was  seated  at  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
u  sign  which  the  latter  comprehended  perfectly.  "Ma- 
dame," continued  Mazarin,  "will  your  majesty  be  good 
enough  to  assure  the  king  yourself  of  the  truth  of  what  I 
have  just  said?" 

Anne  of  Austria  rose;  she  herself  was  anxious  to  have  the 
question  of  the  forty  millions  settled — the  question  which 


THE   YICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  309 

seemed  to  lie  heavy  on  the  mind  of  everybody.  Anne  of 
Austria  went  out;  Mazarin  made  a  great  effort,  and,  raising 
himself  up  toward  Colbert,  "Well,  Colbert,"  said  he,  "two 
days  have  passed  away — two  mortal  days — and,  you  see, 
nothing  is  come  back  from  yonder." 

"Patience,  monseigneur,"  said  Colbert. 

"Art  thou  mad,  thou  wretch?  Thou  advisest  me  tc 
have  patience!  Oh,  in  sad  truth,  Colbert,  thou  art  laugh- 
ing at  me.  I  am  dying,  and  thou  callest  out  to  me  t(> 
wait!" 

"Monseigneur,"  said  Colbert,  with  his  habitual  coolness, 
"it  is  impossible  that  things  should  not  fall  out  as  I  have 
said.  His  majesty  is  coming  to  see  you,  and,  no  doubt,  he 
brings  back  the  deed  himself." 

"Do  you  think  so?  Well,  I,  on  the  contrary,  am  sure 
that  his  majesty  is  coming  to  thank  me."   > 

At  this  moment  Anne  of  Austria  returned.  On  her  way 
to  the  apartments  of  her  son  she  had  met  with  a  new  em- 
piric. This  concerned  a  powder  which,  it  was  said,  had 
power  to  save  the  cardinal;  and  she  brought  a  portion  of 
this  powder  with  her.  But  this  was  not  what  Mazarin  ex- 
pected; therefore  he  would  not  even  look  at  it,  declaring 
that  life  was  not  worth  the  pains  that  were  taken  to  pre- 
serve it.  But,  while  professing  this  philosophical  axiom, 
his  long-confined  secret  escaped  him  at  last. 

"That,  madame,"  said  he,  "that  is  not  the  interesting 
part  of  my  situation.  I  made  the  king,  now  two  days  ago, 
a  little  donation;  up  to  this  time,  from  delicacy,  no  doubt, 
his  majesty  has  not  condescended  to  say  anything  about  it; 
but  the  time  for  explanation  is  come;  and  I  implore  your 
majesty  to  tell  me  if  the  king  has  made  up  his  mind  on  that 
matter." 

Anne  of  Austria  was  about  to  reply,  when  Mazarin 
stopped  her. 

"The  truth,  madame,"  said  he — "in  the  name  of  Heaven, 
the  truth!  Do  not  flatter  a  dying  man  with  a  hope  that 
may  prove  vain."  There  he  stopped,  a  look  from  Colbert 
telling  him  that  he  was  on  a  wrong  tack. 

"I  know,"  said  Anne  of  Austria,  taking  the  cardinal's 
hand,  "I  know  that  you  have  generously  made,  not  a  little 
donation,  as  you  with  so  much  modesty  call  it,  but  a  mag- 
nificent gift.  I  know  how  painful  it  would  be  to  you  if  the 
king " 

Mazarin  listened,  dying  as  he  was,  as  ten  living  men  coul<$ 
not  have  listened. 


310  THE   riCOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

"That  the  king — "  replied  he. 

"That  the  king,"  continued  Anne  of  Austria,  5  shoulc 
not  freely  accept  what  you  offer  so  nobly." 

Mazarin  allowed  himself  to  sink  back  upon  his  pillow  like 
Pantaloon;  that  is  to  say,  with  all  the  despair  of  a  man  who 
yields  to  the  tempest;  but  he  still  preserved  sufficient 
strength  and  presence  of  mind  to  cast  upon  Colbert  one  of 
those  looks  which  are  well  worth  a  hundred  sonnets,  which 
is  to  say,  ten  long  poems. 

"Should  you  not,"  added  the  queen,  "have  considered 
the  refusal  of  the  king  as  a  sort  of  insult?"  Mazarin  rolled 
his  head  about  upon  his  pillow,  without  articulating  a  sylla- 
ble. The  queen  was  deceived,  or  feigned  to  be  deceived, 
by  this  demonstration. 

"Therefors,"  resumed  she,  "I  have  circumvented  him 
with  good  counsels;  and  ascertain  minds,  jealous,  no  doubt, 
of  the  glory  you  are  about  to  acquire  by  this  generosity, 
have  endeavored  to  prove  to  the  king  that  he  ought  not  to 
accept  of  this  donation,  I  have  struggled  in  your  favor,  and 
so  well  have  I  struggled  that  you  will  not  have,  I  hope, 
that  disagreeable  to  undergo. 

"Ah!"  murmured  Mazarin,  with  languishing  eyes,  "ah, 
that  is  a  service  I  shall  never  forget  for  a  single  minute 
during  the  few  hours  I  have  to  live." 

"I  must  admit,"  continued  the  queen,  "that  it  was  not 
without  trouble  I  rendered  it  to  your  eminence." 

"Ah,  peste!  I  believe  that.     Oh!  oh!" 

"Good  God!  what  is  the  matter?" 

:'I  am  burning." 

"Do  you  suffer  much?" 

"As  much  as  one  of  the  damned." 

Colbert  would  have  wished  to  have  sunk  through  the 
flooring. 

"So,  then,"  resumed  Mazarin,  "your  majesty  thinks  that 
the  king" — he  stopped  several  seconds — "that  the  king  is 
coming  here  to  offer  me  some  small  thanks?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  the  queen.  Mazarin  annihilated  Col- 
bert with  his  last  look. 

At  that  moment  the  ushers  announced  that  the  king  was 
in  the  antechambers,  which  were  filled  with  people.  This 
announcement  produced  a  stir  of  which  Colbert  took  advan- 
tage to  escape  by  the  door  of  the  nielle.  Anne  of  Austria 
arose,  and  awaited  her  son,  standing.  Louis  XIV.  ap- 
peared at  the  threshold  of  the  door,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  dying  man,  who  did  not  even  think  it  worth  while  to 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  311 

jotice  that  majesty  from  which  he  thought  he  had  nothing 
more  to  expect.  An  usher  placed  a  fauteuil  close  to  the 
bed.  Louis  bowed  to  his  mother,  then  to  the  cardinal,  and 
eat  down.  The  queen  took  a  seat  in  her  turn.  Then,  as 
the  king  had  looked  behind  him,  the  usher  understood  that 
look,  and  made  a  sign  to  the  courtiers  who  filled  up  the 
doorway  to  be  gone,  which  they  instantly  complied  with. 
Silence  fell  upon  the  chamber  with  the  velvet  curtains. 
The  king,  still  very  young,  and  very  timid  in  the  presence 
of  him  who  had  been  his  master  from  his  birth,  still  re- 
spected him  much,  particularly  now,  surrounded  with  the 
supreme  majesty  of  death.  He  did  not  dare,  therefore,  to 
commence  the  conversation,  feeling  that  every  word  must 
have  its  bearing,  not  only  upon  things  of  this  world,  but  of 
the  next.  As  to  the  cardinal,  at  that  moment  he  had  but 
one  thought — his  donation.  It  was  not  physical  pain  which 
gave  him  that  air  of  despondency  and  that  lugubrious  look; 
it  was  the  expectation  of  the  thanks  that  were  about  to 
issue  from  the  king's  mouth,  and  cut  off  all  hope  of  resti- 
tution.    Mazarin  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"Is  your  majesty  come  to  make  any  stay  at  Vincennes?', 
said  he. 

Louis  made  an  affirmative  sign  with  his  head. 

"That  is  a  gracious  favor,"  continued  Mazarin,  "granted 
to  a  dying  man,  and  which  will  render  death  more  mild  to 
him." 

"I  hope,"  replied  the  king,  "I  am  come  to  visit,  not  a 
dying  man,  but  a  sick  man,  susceptible  of  cure."  Mazarin 
replied  by  a  movement  of  the  head. 

"Your  majesty  is  very  kind;  but  I  know  more  than  you 
on  that  subject.  The  last  visit,  sire,"  said  he,  "the  last 
visit." 

"If  it  were  so,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal,"  said  Louis,  "I 
would  come  a  last  time  to  ask  the  counsels  of  a  guide  to 
whom  I  owe  everything." 

Anne  of  Austria  was  a  woman;  she  could  not  restrain  her 
tears.  Louis  showed  himself  much  affected,  and  Mazarin 
still  more  than  his  two  guests,  but  from  very  different 
motives.  Here  the  silence  returned.  The  queen  wiped 
her  eyes,  and  the  king  resumed  his  firmness. 

"I  was  saying,"  continued  the  king,  "that  I  owed  much 
to  your  eminence."  The  eyes  of  the  cardinal  devoured  the 
king,  for  he  felt  the  great  moment  was  come.  "And." 
continued  Louis,  "the  principal  object  of  my  visit  was  to 
offer  you  very  sincere  thanks  for  the  last  evidence  of  friend- 
ship you  have  kindly  sent  me." 


312  THE  YICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOKN'E. 

The   cheeks  of   the    cardinal   sank    in,  his  lips  partially 
opened,  and  the  most  lamentable  sigh  he  had  ever  uttered*, 
was  about  to  issue  from  his  chest. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "I  may  have  despoiled  my  poor  family; 
I  may  have  ruined  all  that  belong  to  me,  which  may  be  r 
imputed  to  me  as  an  error;  but,  at  least,  it  shall  not  be  said  , 
of  me  that  I  have  refused  to  sacrifice  everything   to  my L 
king." 

Anne  of  Austria's  tears  flowed  afresh. 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Mazarin,"  said  the  king,  in  a  more 
serious  tone  than  might  have  been  expected  from  his  youth, 
"you  have  misunderstood  me  apparently." 

Mazarin  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow. 

"I  have  no  purpose  to  despoil  your  dear  family,  nor  to 
ruin  your  servants.     Oh,  no,  that  shall  never  be!" 

"Humph!"  thought  Mazarin,  "he  is  going  to  restore  me 
some  bribe;  let  us  get  the  largest  piece  out  of  the  trap  we 
can." 

"The  king  is  going  to  be  foolishly  affected,  and  play  the 
generous,"  thought  the  queen;  "he  must  not  be  allowed  to 
impoverish  himself;  such  an  opportunity  for  gaining  a  for-i 
tune  will  never  occur  again." 

"Sire,"  said  the  cardinal  aloud,  "my  family  is  very 
numerous,  and  my  nieces  will  be  destitute  when  I  am  gone."  j 

"Oh,"  interrupted  the  queen  eagerly,  "have  no  uneasi- 
ness with  respect  to  your  family,  dear  Monsieur  Mazarin; ' 
we  have  no  friends  dearer  than  your  friends;  your  nieces 
shall  be  my  children,  the  sisters  of  his  majesty;  and  if  a 
favor  be  distributed  in  France  it  shall  be  to  those  you  love." 

"Smoke!"  thought  Mazarin,  who  knew  better  than  any 
one  the  faith  that  can  be  put  in  the  promises  of  kings,  j 
Louis  read  the  dying  man's  thought  in  his  face. 

"Be  comforted,  my  dear  Monsieur  Mazarin,"  said  he, 
with  a  half-smile,  sad  beneath  its  irony;  "the  Mesdemoi- 
selles  de  Mancini  will  lose,  when  losing  you,  their  most 
precious  good;  but  they  shall  none  the  less  be  the  richest 
heiresses  of  France;  and  since  you  have  been  kind  enough 
to  give  me  their  dowry" — the  cardinal  was  panting — "I 
restore  it  to  them,"  continued  Louis,  drawing  from  his 
breast  and  holding  toward  the  cardinal's  bed  the  parchment 
which  contained  the  donation  that,  during  two  days,  had 
kept  alive  such  tempests  in  the  mind  of  Mazarin. 

"What  did  I  tell  you,  monseigneur?"  murmured  in  the 
rtielle  a  voice  which  passed  away  like  a  breath. 

"Your  majesty  returns  me  my  donation!"  cried  Mazarin, 
so  disturbed  by  joy  as  to  forget  his  character  of  a  benefactor. 


THE   YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  313 

"Your  majesty  rejects  the  forty  millions!"  cried  Anne  of 
Austria,  so  stupefied  as  to  forget  her  character  of  an  afflicted 
afe  or  queen. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal;  yes,  madame,"  replied  Louis 
|[IV.,  tearing  the  parchment  which  Mazarin  had  not  yet 
entured  to  clutch;    "yes,   I  annihilate  this   deed   which 
''espoiled  a  whole  family.     The  wealth  acquired  by  his  em 
lence  in  my  service  is  his  own  wealth,  and  not  mine." 

"But,  sire,  does  your  majesty  reflect,"  said  Anne  of 
aistria,  "that  you  have  not  ten  thousand  crowns  in  your 
offers?" 

"Madame,  I  have  just  performed  my  first  royal  action, 
nd  I  hope  it  will  worthily  inaugurate  my  reign?" 
(  "Ah!  sire,  you  are  right!"  cried  Mazarin;  "that  is  truly 
reat — that  is  truly  generous  which  you  have  just  done." 
Vnd  he  looked,  one  after  the  other,  at  the  pieces  of  the  act 
'oread  over  his  bed,  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  the  orig- 
lal  and  not  a  copy  that  had  been  torn.  At  length  his 
yes  fell  upon  the  fragment  which  bore  his  signature,  and, 
^cognizing  it,  he  sank  back  swooning  on  his  bolster. 
Inne  of  Austria,  without  strength  to  conceal  her  regret, 
lised  her  hands  and  eyes  toward  heaven. 
,  "Oh,  sire!"  cried  Mazarin,  "be  you  blessed!  My  God! 
(ay  you  be  beloved  by  all  my  family.  Per  Bacclw  !  if  ever 
\ij  discontent  comes  to  you  on  the  part  of  those  belonging 
>  me,  sire,  only  frown,  and  I  will  rise  from  my  tomb!" 
\  This  pantalonnade  did  not  produce  all  the  effect  Mazarin 
!ad  reckoned  upon.  Louis  had  already  passed  to  considera- 
ons  of  a  more  elevated  nature,  and  as  to  Anne  of  Austria, 
hable  to  support,  without  abandoning  herself  to  the  anger 
le  felt  burning  within  her,  the  magnanimity  of  her  son 
id  the  hypocrisy  of  the  cardinal,  she  arose  and  left  the 
lamber,  heedless  of  thus  betraying  the  extent  of  her  grief, 
.azarin  saw  all  this,  and  fearing  that  Louis  XIV.  might 
ppent  of  his  decision,  he  began,  in  order  to  draw  attention 
lother  way,  to  cry  out,  as,  at  a  later  period,  Scapin  was  to 
ry  out,  in  that  sublime  piece  of  pleasantry  which  the 
orose  and  grumbling  Boileau  dared  to  reproach  Moliere 
ith.  His  cries,  however,  by  degrees,  became  fainter;  and 
hen  Anne  of  Austria  left  the  apartment  they  ceased  alto- 
ither. 

"Monsieur  le  Cardinal,"  said  the  king,  "have  you  any 
icommendations  to  make  to  me?" 

"Sire,"  replied  Mazarin,  "you  are  already  wisdom  itself, 
cudence  personified;  of  your  generosity  I  will  not  venture 


314  THE  VICOMTB   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

to  speak;  that  which  you  have  just  done  exceeds  all  that 
the  most  generous  men  of  antiquity  or  of  modern  times 
have  ever  done." 

The  king  received  this  praise  coldly. 

"So  you  confine  yourself,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "to  your 
thanks — and  your  experience,  much  more  extensive  than 
my  wisdom,  my  prudence,  or  my  generosity,  does  not 
furnish  me  with  a  single  piece  of  friendly  advice  to  guide 
my  future." 

Mazarin  reflected  for  a  moment.  "You  have  just  done 
much  for  me,  sire,"  said  he;  "that  is,  for  mine." 

"Say  no  more  about  that,"  said  the  king  "Weil,"  con- 
tinued Mazarin,  "I  will  return  you  something  in  exchange 
for  these  forty  millions  you  have  given  up  so  royally." 
Louis  XIV.,  by  a  movement,  indicated  that  these  flatteries 
were  unpleasing  to  him.  "I  will  give  you  a  piece  of  ad- 
vice," continued  Mazarin;  "yes,  a  piece  of  advice — adviee 
more  precious  than  the  forty  millions." 

"Monsieur  le  Cardinal!"  interrupted  Louis. 

"Sire,  listen  to  this  advice." 

"I  am  listening." 

"Come  nearer,  sire,  for  I  am  weak — nearer,  sire,  nearer." 

The  king  bent  over  the  dying  man.  "Sire,"  said  Maz- 
arin, in  so  low  a  tone  that  the  breath  qi  his  words  arrived 
only  like  a  recommendation  from  the  tomb  in  the  attentive 
ears  of  the  king,  "sire,  never  have  a  prime  minister." 

Louis  drew  back,  astonished.  The  advice  was  a  confes- 
sion— a  treasure,  in  fact,  was  that  sincere  confession  of 
Mazarin.  The  legacy  of  the  cardinal  to  the  young  king 
was  composed  of  six  words  only,  but  those  six  words,  as 
Mazarin  had  said,  were  worth  forty  millions.  Louis  re- 
mained for  an  instant  confounded.  As  for  Mazarin,  he 
appeared  only  to  have  said  something  quite  natural.  A 
little  scratching  was  heard  along  the  curtains  of  the  ruelle. 
Mazarin  understood. 

"Yes,  yes!"  cried  he  warmly,  "yes,  sire,  I  recommend 
you  a  wise  man,  an  honest  man,  and  a  clever  man." 

"Tell  me  his  name,  Monsieur  le  Cardinal." 

"His  name  is  yet  almost  unknown,  sire;  it  is  Monsieur 
Colbert,  my  intendant.  Oh,  try  him,"  added  Mazarin,  in 
an  earnest  voice;  "all  that  he  has  predicted  has  come  to 
pass;  he  has  a  safe  glance,  he  is  never  mistaken  either  in 
things  or  in  men — which  is  more  surprising  still.  Sire,  I 
owe  you  much,  but  I  think  I  acquit  myself  of  all  toward 
you  in  giving  you  Monsieur  Colbert." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  31o 

"So  be  it."  said  Louis  faintly,  for,  as  Mazarin  had  said, 
the  name  of  Colbert  was  quite  unknown  to  him,  and  lie 
thought  the  enthusiasm  of  the  cardinal  partook  of  the 
delirium  of  a  dying  man.  The  cardinal  sank  back  on  his 
pillow. 

''For  the  present,  adieu,  sire — adieu,"  murmured  Maz- 
arin. "I  am  tired,  and  I  have  yet  a  rough  journey  to  per- 
form before  I  present  myself  to  my  new  Master.  Adieu, 
sire." 

The  young  king  felt  the  tears  rise  to  his  eyes;  he  bent 
over  the  dying  man,  already  half  a  corpse,  and  then  pre- 
cipitately retired. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

THE   FIRST     APPEARANCE   OF   COLBERT. 

The  whole  night  was  passed  in  anguish,  common  to  the 
dying  man  and  the  king;  the  dying  man  expected  his  de- 
liverance, the  king  expected  his  liberty.  Louis  did  not  go 
to  bed.  An  hour  after  leaving  the  chamber  of  the  cardinal 
he  learned  that  the  dying  man,  recovering  a  little  strength, 
had  insisted  upon  being  dressed,  farded,  and  painted,  and 
seeing  the  embassadors.  Like  Augustus,  he  no  doubt  con- 
sidered the  world  to  be  a  great  theater,  and  was  desirous  of 
playing  out  the  last  act  of  the  comedy.  Anne  of  Austria 
reappeared  no  more  in  the  cardinal's  apartments;  she  had 
nothing  more  to  do  there.  Propriety  was  the  pretext  for 
her  absence.  On  his  part,  the  cardinal  did  not  ask  for  her; 
the  advice  the  queen  had  given  her  son  rankled  in  his 
heart.  Toward  midnight,  still  painted,  Mazarin's  mortal 
agony  came  on.  He  had  revised  his  testament,  and  as  this 
testament  was  the  exact  expression  of  his  will,  and  as  he 
feared  that  some  interested  influence  might  take  advantage 
of  his  weakness  to  make  him  change  something  in  that  tes- 
tament, he  had  given  orders  to  Colbert,  who  walked  up  and 
down  the  corridor  which  led  to  the  cardinal's  bedchamber, 
like  the  most  vigilant  of  sentinels.  The  king,  shut  up  in  his 
ownapartment,dispatched  his  nurse  every  hour  to  Mazarin's 
chamber,  with  orders  to  bring  him  back  the  exact  bulletin  of 
the  cardinal's  state.  After  having  heard  that  Mazarin  was 
dressed,  painted,  and  had  seen  the  embassadors,  Louis 
heard  that  prayers  for  the  dying  were  commenced  for  the 
cardinal.     At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Uuenaud   had 


316  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

administered  the  last  remedy.  This  was  a  relic  of  the  old 
customs  of  that  fencing  time,  which  was  abonl  to  disap] 
to  give  place  to  another  time,  to  believe  that  death  could 
be  kept  off  by  some  good  secret  thrust.  Mazarin,  after 
having  taken  the  remedy,  respired  freely  for  nearly  ten 
minutes.     He  immediately  gave  orders  that  the  news  should 

pread  everywhere  of  a  fortunate  crisis.     The  king, 
learning  this,  felt  as  if  a  cold  sweat  were  passing  over  his 
.    _iimpse  of  the  light  of  liberty;  slavery 
1   to  him  more  dark  and   I  ptable  than  ever 

Bn    the  bulletin  which   followed   entirely  changed  the 
of  things.     Mazarin  could   no  longer  breathe   at  all,   and 
could  scarcely  follow    the   prayers  which   the  cure  of   St. 
Nicholas  des  Champs  recited  near  him.     The  king  resui 
his  agitated  walk  about  his  chamber,  and  consulted,  as  he 
wall  i   from  a  casket  of  which   he 

alone  had  the  key.  A  third  time  the  nurse  returned.  M.  de 
Mazarin  had  just  uttered  a  joke,  and  had  ordered  his 
"Flora,"  by  Titian,  to  be  revarnished.  At  length,  towi  i 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  king  could  no  longer  i 
his  weariness;  he  had  not  slept  for  twenty-four  hours. 
p,  so  powerful  at  his  age.  overcame  him  for  about  an 
hour.  But  he  did  not  go  to  bed  for  that  hour;  he  slept  iu 
titeuil.  About  four  o'clock  his  nurse  awoke  him  by 
entering  the  room. 

"Well?"  asked  the  king. 

"Well,  my  dear  sire,"  said  the  nurse,  clasping  her  hands 
with  an  air  of  commiseration.     "Well,  he  is  dead!" 

The  king  arose  at  a  bound,  as  if  a  steel  spring  had  been 
applied  to  his  legs. 

"Dead!"  cried  he. 

"Alas!  yes." 

"Is  it  quite  certain?" 

'Yes." 

"Official?" 

"Yes." 

"Has  the  news  of  it  been  made  public?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Who  told  you,  then,  that  the  cardinal  was  dead?''" 

"Monsieur  Colbert." 

"Monsieur  Colbert?" 

"Yes." 

"And  was  he  sure  of  what  he  said?" 

"He  came  out  of  the   chamber,  and  had  held  a  glass  for1 
sornp  minutes  be-fore  the  rt:trd; rial's  li',1^" 


THE    VICO.MTR    Hi:    i;  ICAGELONNE.  '>]'/ 

<sAh!'''  said  the  king.  "And  what  is  become  of  Monsieur 
Colbert?" 

"He  has  just  left  the  chamber  of  his  eminence. " 

"To  go  whither?" 

"To  follow  me."' 

"So  that  he  is " 

"There,  my  dear  sire,  waiting  at  your  door,  till  it  shall 
be  your  good  pleasure  to  receive  him." 

Louis  ran  to  the  door,  opened  it  himself,  and  perceived 
in  the  passage  Colbert  standing  waiting.  The  king  startec 
at  the  sight  of  this  statue,  all  lotl  '  bla  '.  Colbert 
bowing  with  profound  respect,  advanced  two  steps  toward 
his  majesty.  Louis  re-entered  his  chamber,  making  Col- 
bert a  sign  to  follow  him.  Colbert  entered;  Louis  dismissed 
the  nurse,  who  closed  the  door  as  she  went  out.  Colbert 
remained  modestly  standing  near  that  door. 

"What  do  you  come  to  announce  to  me,  monsieur?''  said 
Louis,  very  much  troubled  at  being  thus  surprised  in  his 
private  thoughts,  which  he  could  not  completely  conceal, 

"That  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  has  just  expired,  sir,  and 
that  I  bring  your  majesty  his  last  adieu." 

The  king  remained  pensive  for  a  minute;  and  during  that 
minute  he  looked  attentively  at  Colbert;  it  was  evident 
that  the  cardinal's  last  words  were  in  his  mind. 

"Are  you,  then,  Monsieur  Colbert?"  asked  he. 

"Yes,  sire." 

"The  faithful  servant  of  his  eminence,  as  his  eminence 
himself  told  me?" 

"Yes.  sire." 

"The  depositary  of  part  of  his  secrets?" 

"Of  all  of  them." 

"The  friends  and  servants  of  his  defunct  eminence  will 
be  dear  to  me,  monsieur,  and  I  shall  take  care  that  you  are 
placed  in  my  offices," 

Colbert  bowed. 

"You  are  a  financier,  monsieur   I  believe?" 

"Yes.  sire." 

"And  did  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  employ  you  in  his  steward- 
ship?" 

"I  had  that  honor,  sire." 

"You  never  did  anything  personally  foi  my  household,  J 
believe?" 

"Pardon  me,  sire,  it  was  I  who  "had  the  honor  of  ^'pp 
Monsieu!  !e  Cardinal  the  idea  oi  an  oonomy  which  puts 
three  h  ii  n  die  a  thousand  francs  a  vear  into  jO'ur  majesty's 
coffer*." 


318  THE  VICOMTE  BE  SRAGELONN*. 

"What  economy  was  that,  monsieur?"  asked  Louis  XIV. 

"Your  majesty  knows  that  the  hundred  Swiss  have  silver 
lace  on  each  side  of  their  ribbons?" 

"Doubtless." 

"Well,  sire,  it  was  I  who  proposed  that  false  silver  lace 
should  be  placed  upon  these  ribbons;  it  could  not  be  seen^ 
and  a  hundred  thousand  crowns  serve  to  feed  a  regiment 
during  six  months;  or  is  the  price  of  ten  thousand  good 
muskets;  or  is  the  value  of  a  vessel  of  ten  guns,  ready  for 
sea." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Louis  XIV.,  considering  the  per- 
sonage more  attentively;  "and,  mafoi !  there  is  an  economy 
well  placed;  besides  it  was  ridiculous  for  soldiers  to  wear 
the  same  lace  as  noblemen  wear." 

"I  am  happy  to  be  approved  of  by  your  majesty." 

"Is  that  the  only  appointment  you  held  with  the  car- 
dinal?" asked  the  king. 

"It  was  I  who  was  appointed  to  examine  the  accounts  of 
the  surintendant,  sire." 

"Ah!"  said  Louis,  who  was  about  to  dismiss  Coibert,  but 
whom  that  word  stopped.  "Ah!  it  was  you  whom  his  em- 
inence had  charged  to  control  Monsieur  Fouquet,  was  it? 
And  the  result  of  the  examination?" 

"Is  that  there  is  a  deficit,  sire;  but  if  your  majesty  will 
permit  me " 

"Speak,  Monsieur  Colbert." 

"I  ought  to  give  your  majesty  some  explanations." 

"Not  at  all,  monsieur;  it  is  you  who  have  controlled 
these  accounts;  give  me  the  results." 

"That  is  very  easily  done,  sire;  empty  everywhere,  money 
nowhere." 

"Beware,  monsieur,  you  are  roughly  attacking  the  ad- 
ministration of  Monsieur  Fouquet,  who,  nevertheless,  I 
have  heard  say  is  an  able  man." 

Colbert  colored,  and  then  became  pale,  for  he  felt  that 
from  that  minute  he  entered  a  struggle  with  a  man  whose 
power  almost  equaled  the  power  of  him  who  had  just  died. 

"Yes,  sire,  a  very  able  man,"  repeated  Colbert,  bowing. 

"But  if  Monsieur  Fouquet  is  an  able  man,  and,  in  spite 
of  that  ability,  if  money  be  wanting,  whose  fault  is  it?" 

"I  do  not  accuse,  sire,  I  verify." 

"That  is  well;  make  out  your  accounts,  and  present  them 
vO  me.  There  is  a  deficit,  do  you  say?  A  deficit  may  be 
temporary;  credit  returns  and  funds  are  restored." 

"No,  sire.' ' 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOHHE.  319 

"Upon  this  year,  perhaps,  I  understand  that;  "but  upon 
next  year?" 

"Next  year  is  eaten  as  bare  as  the  current  year/' 

"But,  the  year  after,  then?" 

"Like  next  year." 

"What  do  you  tell  me,  Monsieur  Colbert?" 

*'I  say  there  are  four  years  engaged  beforehand.*1 

"They  must  have  a  loan,  then." 

''They  must  have  three,  sire." 

"I  will  create  offices  to  make  them  resign,  and  the  money 
of  the  posts  shall  be  paid  into  the  treasury." 

"Impossible,  sire,  for  there  have  already  been  creations 
upon  creations  of  offices,  the  provisions  of  which  are  given 
in  blank,  so  that  the  purchasers  enjoy  them  without  filling 
them.  That  is  why  your  majesty  cannot  make  them  re- 
sign. Further,  upon  each  agreement  Monsieur  Fouquet 
has  made  an  abatement  of  a  third,  so  that  the  people  have 
been  plundered,  without  your  majesty  profiting  by  it.  Let 
your  majesty  set  down  clearly  your  thought,  and  tell  me 
what  you  wish  me  to  explain." 

"You  are  right;  clearness  is  what  you  wish,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  sire,  clearness.  God  is  God,  above  all  things,  be- 
cause He  made  light." 

"Well,  for  example,"  resumed  Louis  XIV.,  "if  to-day, 
the  cardinal  being  dead,  and  I  being  king,  I  wanted  money?" 

"Your  majesty  would  not  have  any." 

"Oh!  that  is  strange,  monsieur!  How,  my  surintendant 
would  not  find  me  any  money?" 

Colbert  shook  his  large  head. 

"How  is  that?"  said  the  king;  "are  the  revenues  of  the 
state  so  much  in  debt  that  there  is  no  longer  any  revenues?" 

'"Yes,  sire,  to  that  extent." 

The  king  started.     "Explain  me  that,  Monsieur  Colbert," 
added  he,  with  a  frown.     "If  it  be  so,  I  will  get  together 
the  ordonnunces  to  obtain  from  the  holders  a  discharge, 
liquidation  at  a  cheap  rate," 

"Impossible;    for  the  ordonnances  have   been  convert: 3 
into  bills,  which   bills,  for  the   convenience  of  return  an^- 
facility  of  transaction,  are  divided  into  so  many  parts  tht. 
the  originals  can  no  longer  be  recognized." 

Louis,  very  much  agitated,  walked  about  still  frowning. 
"But,  if  this  were  as  you  say,  Monsieur  Colbert,"  said  he. 
stopping  all  at  once,  "I  should  be  ruined  before  I  begin  to 
reign." 

"You  are,  in  fact,  sire,"  said  the  impassible  caster-up  of 
figures. 


320  THE  VICOMTB   PE   BRAOELONNE. 

"Well,  but  yet,  monsieur,  the  money  is  somewhere." 

"Yes,  sire,  and  even  as  a  beginning.  I  bring  your  majesty 
a  note  of  funds  which  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  Mazarin  was 
not  willing  to  set  down  in  his  testament,  neither  in  any  act 
whatever,  but  which  he  contided  to  me." 

"To  you?" 

"Yes,  sire,  with  an  injunction  to  remit  it  to  your 
majesty." 

"What!  besides  the  forty  millions  of  the  testament?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"Monsieur  de  Mazarin  had  still  other  funds?" 

Colbert  bowed. 

"Why,  that  man  was  a  gulf!"  murmured  the  king. 
"Monsieur  de  Mazarin  on  one  side,  Monsieur  Fouquet  on 
the  other — more  than  a  hundred  millions,  perhaps,  between 
them!     No  wonder  my  coffers  should  be  empty!" 

Colbert  waited  without  stirring. 

"And  is  the  sum  you  bring  me  worth  the  trouble?"  asked 
■  Jie  king. 

"Yes,  sire,  it  is  a  round  sum." 

"Amounting  to  how  much?'* 

"To  thirteen  millions  of  livres,  sire." 

"Thirteen  millions!"  cried  Louis,  trembling  with  joy, 
'do  you  say  thirteen  millions,  Monsieur  Colbert?" 

"I  said  thirteen  millions,  yes,  your  majesty.1' 

"Of  which  everybody  is  ignorant?" 

"Of  which  everybody  is  ignorant." 

"Which  are  in  your  hands?" 

"In  my  hands,  yes,  sire." 

"And  which  I  can  have?" 

"Within  two  hours,  sire." 

"But  where  are  they,  then?" 

"In  the  cellar  of  a  house  which  the  cardinal  possessed  in 
the  city,  and  which  he  was  so  kind  as  to  leave  me  by  a  par- 
ticular clause  of  his  will." 

"You  are  acquainted  with  the  cardinal's  will,  then?" 

"I  have  a  duplicate  of  it,  signed  by  his  hand." 

"A  duplicate?" 

"Yes,  sire,  and  here  it  is."  Colbert  drew  the  deed 
quietly  from  his  pocket,  and  showed  it  to  the  king.  The 
king  read  the  article  relative  to  the  donation  of  the  house. 

"But,"  said  he,  "there  is  no  question  here  but  of  the 
house;  there  is  nothing  said  of  the  money." 

"Your  pardon,  she,  it  is  in  my  conscience." 

"And  Monsieur  Mazarin  has  intrusted  ;t  to  vou?" 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BllAGELONNE.  321 

"Why  not,  sire?" 

"He!  a  man  mistrustful  of  everybody?" 

"He  was  not  so  of  me,  sire,  as  your  majesty  may  perceive." 

Louis  fixed  his  eyes  with  admiration  upon  that  vulgar  but 
expressive  face. 

"You  are  an  honest  man,  Monsieur  Colbert,"  said  the 
king. 

"That  is  not  a  virtue,  it  is  a  duty,"  replied  Colbert 
coolly. 

"But,"  added  Louis,  "does  not  the  money  belong  to  the 
family?" 

"If  this  money  belonged  to  the  family,  it  would  be  dis- 
posed of  in  the  testament,  as  the  rest  of  his  fortune  is.  If 
this  money  belonged  to  the  family,  I,  who  drew  up  the 
deed  of  donation  in  favor  of  your  majesty,  should  have 
added  the  sum  of  thirteen  millions  to  that  of  forty  millions 
which  was  offered  to  you." 

"How!"  exclaimed  Louis  XIV.,  "was  it  you  who  drew 
up  the  deed  of  donation?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"And  yet  the  cardinal  loved  you?"  added  the  king 
ingenuously. 

"I  had  assured  his  eminence  you  would  by  no  means 
accept  the  gift,"  said  Colbert,  in  that  same  quiet  manner 
we  have  described,  and  which,  even  in  the  common  habits 
of  life,  had  something  solemn  in  it.  Louis  passed  his  hand 
over  his  brow. 

"Oh!  how  young  I  am,"  murmured  he,  "to  have  the 
command  of  men." 

Colbert  waited  the  end  of  this  interior  monologue.  He 
saw  Louis  raise  his  head. 

"A*,  what  hour  shall  I, send  the  money  to  your  majesty?" 
asked  he. 

"To-night,  at  eleven  o'clock;  I  desire  that  nc  one  may 
know  that  I  possess  this  money." 

Colbert  made  no  more  reply  than  if  the  tiling  had  not 
Deen  said  to  him. 

"Is  the  amount  in  ingots  or  coined  gold?" 

"In  coined  gold,  sire." 

"That  is  well." 

"Where  shall  I  send  it  to?" 

"To  the  Louvre.     Thank  you,  Monsieur  Colbert." 

Colbert  bowed  and  retired. 

"Thirteen  millions!"  exclaimed  Louis,  as  soon  as  he  was 
alone.     "This  must  be  a  dream!''' 


322  THE   YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

Then  he  allowed  his  head  to  sink  between  his  hands,  as 
if  he  were  really  asleep.  But  at  the  end  of  a  moment  he 
arose,  and  opening  the  window  violently,  he  bathed  his 
burning  brow  in  the  keen  morning  air,  which  brought  to 
his  senses  the  scent  of  the  trees  and  the  perfume  of  flowers. 
A  splendid  dawn  was  rising  in  the  horizon,  and  the  first 
rays  of  the  sun  inundated  with  flame  the  brow  of  the  young 

kins- 

''This  dawn  is  that  of  my  reign!"  murmured  Louis  XIV. 
''Is  it  a  presage  that  you  send  me,  all-powerful  God?" 


CHAPTER    L. 

THE   FIRST   DAY    OF   THE    ROYALTY    OF   LOUIS   XIV. 

In  the  morning  the  news  of  the  death  of  the  cardinal 
was  spread  through  the  castle,  and  thence  speedily  reached 
the  city.  The  ministers,  Fouquet,  Lyonne,  and  Letellier 
entered  la  salle  des  seances  to  hold  a  council.  The  king 
sent  for  them  immediately. 

"Messieurs,"  said  he,  "as  long  as  Monsieur  le  Cardinal 
lived  I  allowed  him  to  govern  my  affairs;  but  now,  I  mean 
to  govern  them  myself.  You  will  give  me  your  advice 
when  I  shall  ask  it.     You  may  go." 

The  ministers  looked  at  one  another  with  surprise.  If 
they  concealed  a  smile,  it  was  with  a  great  effort,  for  they 
knew  that  the  prince,  brought  up  in  absolute  ignorance  of 
business,  by  this  took  upon  himself  a  burden  much  too 
heavy  for  his  strength.  Fouquet  took  leave  of  his  colleagues 
upon  the  stairs,  saying: 

"Messieurs,  there  will  be  so  much  the  less  labor  for  us." 

And  he  got  gayly  into  his  carriage.  The  others,  a  little 
uneasy  at  the  turn  things  had  taken,  went  back  to  Paris 
together.  Toward  ten  o'clock,  the  king  repaired  to  the 
apartment  of  his  mother,  with  whom  he  had  a  long  and  per- 
fectly private  conversation.  After  dinner  he  got  into  his 
carriage,  and  went  straight  to  the  Louvre.  There  he  re- 
ceived much  company,  and  took  a  degree  of  pleasure  in 
remarking  the  hesitation  of  all  and  the  curiosity  of  each. 
Toward  evening  he  ordered  the  doors  of  the  Louvre  to  be 
closed,  with  the  exception  of  one  only,  which  opened  to 
the  quay.  He  placed  on  duty  at  this  point  two  hundred^ 
Swiss,  who  did  not  speak  a  word  of  French,  with  orders  to 
admit  all  who  carried  packages,  but  no  others;  and  by  n« 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONffE.  323 

means  to  allow  any  one  to  go  out.  At  eleven  o  clock  pre- 
cisely he  heard  the  rolling  of  a  heavy  carriage  under  the 
arch,  then  of  another,  then  of  a  third;  after  which  the  gate 
grated  upon  its  hinges  to  he  closed.  Soon  after,  somebody 
scratched  with  their  nail  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet.  The 
king  opened  it  himself,  and  beheld  Colbert,  whose  first 
word  was  this: 

"The  money  is  in  your  majesty's  cellar." 

The  king  then  descended  and  went  himself  to  see  the 
barrels  of  specie,  in  gold  and  silver,  which,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Colbert,  four  men  had  just  rolled  into  a  cellar  of 
which  the  king  had  given  Colbert  the  key  in  the  morning. 
This  review  completed,  Lonis  returnd  to  his  apartments, 
followed  by  Colbert,  who  had  not  warmed  his  immovable 
coldness  with  one  ray  of  personal  satisfaction. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  "what  do  you  wish  that  I 
should  give  you  as  a  recompense  for  this  devotedness  and 
probity?" 

"Absolutely  nothing,  sire." 

"How,  nothing?  Not  even  an  opportunity  of  serving 
me?" 

"If  your  majesty  were  not  to  furnish  me  with  that  oppor- 
tunity, I  should  not  the  less  serve  you.  It  is  impossible  for 
me  not  to  be  the  best  servant  of  the  king." 

"You  shall  be  intendant  of  the  finances,  Monsieur  Col- 
bert." 

"But  there  is  already  a  surintendant,  sire." 

"I  know  that." 

"Sire,  the  surintendant  of  the  finances  is  the  most  power- 
ful man  in  the  kingdom." 

"Ah!"  cried  Louis,  coloring,  "do  you  think  so?" 

"He  will  crush  me  in  a  week,  sire.  "Your  majesty  gives 
me  a  controle  for  which  strength  is  indispensable.  And 
intendant  under  a  surintendant — that  is  inferiority." 

"You  want  support — you  do  not  reckon  upon  me?" 

"I  had  the  honor  of  telling  your  majesty  that  during  the 
lifetime  of  Monsieur  de  Mazarin,  Monsieur  Fouquet  was 
the  second  man  in  the  kingdom;  now  Monsieur  de  Mazarin 
is  dead,  Monsieur  Fouquet  is  become  the  first." 

"Monsieur,  I  agree  to  what  you  told  me  of  all  things  up 
to  to-day;  but  to-morrow,  please  to  remember,  I  shall  no 
longer  suffer  it." 

"Then  I  shall  be  of  no  use  to  your  majesty?" 

"'You  are  already,  since  you  fea.  to  compromise  yourself 
in  seiving  me." 


324  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOtfNE. 

"I  only  fear  to  be  placed  so  that  I  cannot  serve  your 
majesty." 

"What  do  you  wish,  then?" 

"I  wish  your  majesty  to  allow  me  assistance  in  the  labors 
of  the  office  of  intendant." 

"The  post  would  lose  its  value." 

"It  would  gain  in  security." 

"Choose  your  colleagues." 

"Messrs.  Breteuil,  Marin,  Harvard." 

"To-morrow  the  ordonnance  shall  appear." 

"Sir,  I  thank  you." 

"Is  that  all  you  ask: 

"No,  sire;  one  thing  more." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Allow  me  to  compose  a  chamber  of  justice." 

"What  would  this  chamber  of  justice  do?" 

"Try  the  farmers-general  and  contractors  who  during  ten 
years  have  speculated." 

"Well,  but  what  would  you  do  with  them?" 

"Hang  two  or  three,  and  that  would  make  the  rest 
disgorge." 

"I  cannot  commence  my  reign  with  executions,  Mon- 
sieur Colbert." 

"On  the  contrary,  sire,  in  order  not  to  end  with  them." 

The  king  made  no  reply. 

"Does  your  majesty  consent?"  said  Colbert. 

"I  will  reflect  upon  it,  monsieur." 

"It  will  be  too  late  when  reflection  may  be  made." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  have  to  deal  with  people  stronger  than  our- 
selves, if  they  are  warned." 

"Compose  that  chamber  of  justice,  monsieur." 

"I  will,  sire." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"No,  sire;  there  is  still  an  important  affair.  "What  rights 
does  your  majesty  attach  to  this  office  of  intendant?" 

"Well,  I  do  not  know — the  customary  ones." 

"Sire,  I  require  that  to  this  office  be  devolved  the  right 
of  reading  the  correspondence  with  England." 

"Impossible,  monsieur,  for  that  correspondence  is  kept 
from  the  council;  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  himself  carried  it 
on." 

"I  thought  your  majesty  had  this  morning  declared  that 
there  should  no  longer  be  a  council?" 

"Yes,  T  said  so." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRIGELONNE.  325 

"Let  your  majesty,  then,  have  the  goodness  to  read  all 
the  letters  yourself,  particularly  those  from  England;  I 
hold  strongly  to  this  article." 

'Monsieur,  you  shall  have  that  correspondence,  and 
render  me  an  account  of  it." 

"Now,  sire,  what  shall  I  do  with  respect  to  the  finances?" 
"All  which  Monsieur  Fouquet  has  not  done." 
"That  is  all  I  ask  of  your  majesty.  Thanks,  sire;  I  de- 
part at  ease;"  and  at  these  words  he  did  depart.  Louis 
watched  that  departure.  Colbert  was  not  yet  a  hundred 
paces  from  the  Louvre  when  the  king  received  a  courier 
from  England.  After  having  looked  at  and  examined  the 
envelope,  the  king  broke  the  seal  precipitately,  and  found 
only  a  letter  from  Charles  II.  The  following  is  what  the 
English  prince  wrote  to  his  royal  brother: 

"Your  majesty  must  be  rendered  very  uneasy  by  the  ill- 
ness of  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  Mazarin;  but  the  excess  of 
danger  can  only  prove  of  service  to  you.  The  cardinal  is 
given  over  by  his  physician.  I  thank  you  for  the  gracious 
reply  you  have  made  to  my  communication  touching  the 
Princess  Henrietta,  my  sister,  and  in  a  week  the  princess 
and  her  court  will  set  out  for  Paris.  It  is  gratifying  to  me 
to  acknowledge  the  fraternal  frendship  you  have  evinced 
toward  me,  and  to  call  you,  more  justly  than  ever,  my 
brother.  It  is  gratifying  to  me,  above  everything,  to  prove 
to  your  majesty  how  much  I  am  interested  in  all  that  may 
please  you.  You  are  having  Belle-Isle-en-Mer  secretly 
fortified.  That  is  wrong.  We  shall  never  be  at  war  against 
each  other.  That  measure  does  not  make  me  uneasy,  it 
makes  me  sad.  You  are  spending  useless  millions  there; 
tell  your  ministers  so,  and  be  assured  that  I  am  well  in- 
formed; render  me  the  same  service,  my  brother,  if  occa- 
sion offers." 

The  king  rang  his  bell  violently,  and  his  valet  de  chamire 
appeared. 

"Monsieur  Colbert  is  just  gone;  he  cannot  be  far  off. 
Let  him  be  called  back!"  exclaimed  he. 

The  valet  was  about  to  execute  the  order,  when  the  king 
stopped  him. 

"No,"  said  he,  "no;  I  see  the  whole  scheme  of  that  man. 
Belle-Isle  belongs  to  Monsieur  Fouquet;  Belle-Isle  is  being 
fortified;  that  is  a  conspiracy  on  the  part  of  Monsieur  Fou- 
quet.    The  discovery  of  that  conspiracy  is  the  ruin  of  the 


326  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

surintendant;  and  that  discovery  is  the  result  of  the  corre- 
spondence with  England;  this  is  why  Colbert  wished  to 
have  that  correspondence.  Oh!  but  I  cannot  place  all  my 
dependence  upon  that  man;  he  is  but  the  head,  I  must 
have  an  arm!" 

Louis  all  at  once  uttered  a  joyful  cry. 

"I  had,"  said  he,  "a  lieutenant  of  musketeers?" 

''Yes,  sire — Monsieur  d'Artagnan." 

"He  quitted  the  service  for  a  time." 

"Yes,  sire." 

"Let  him  be  found,  and  be  here  to-morrow,  at  my  levee." 

The  valet  de  chambre  bowed,  and  went  out. 

"Thirteen  millions  in  my  cellar,"  said  the  king;  "Col- 
bert bearing  my  purse,  and  D'Artagnan  carrying  my  sword 
— I  am  king!" 


CHAPTER  LI. 

A   PASSION. 

The  6!ay  of  his  arrival,  on  returning  from  the  Palais 
Royal,  Athos,  as  we  have  seen,  went  straight  to  his  hotel  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore.  He  there  found  the  Vicomte  de 
Bragelonne  waiting  for  him  in  his  chamber,  chatting  with 
Grimaud.  It  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  talk  with  this  old 
servant.  Two  men  only  possessed  the  secret,  Athos  and 
D'Artagnan.  The  first  succeeded,  because  Grimaud  sought 
to  make  him  speak  for  himself;  D'Artagnan,  on  the  con- 
trary, because  he  knew  how  to  make  Grimaud  talk.  Raoul 
was  occupied  in  making  him  describe  the  voyage  to  Eng- 
land, and  Grimaud  had  related  it  in  all  its  details,  with  a 
certain  number  of  gestures  and  eight  words,  neither  more 
nor  less.  He  had,  at  first,  indicated  by  an  undulating 
movement  of  his  hand  that  his  master  and  he  had  crossed 
the  sea. 

"Upon  some  expedition?"  Raoul  had  asked. 

Grimaud,  by  bending  down  his  head  had  answered: 

"Yes." 

"When  Monsieur  le  Comte  incurred  much  danger?" 
asked  Raoul. 

"Neither  too  much  nor  too  little,"  was  replied  by  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders. 

"But,  still,  what  sort  of  danger?"  insisted  Raoul. 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  327 

Grimaud  pointed  to  the  sword;  he  pointed  to  the  fire  and 
to  a  musket  hung  up  on  the  wall. 

"Monsieur  le  Oomte  had  an  enemy  there,  then?"  cried 
Kaoul. 

"Monk,"  replied  Grimaud. 

"It   is  strange,"   continued   Eaoul,    "that   Monsieur  le 
Comte  persists  in  considering  me  a  novice,  and  not  allow-, 
ing  me  to  partake  the  honor  and  danger  of  his  rencounters." 

Grimaud  smiled.  It  was  at  this  moment  Athos  came  in. 
The  host  was  lighting  him  up  the  stairs,  and  Grimaud, 
recognizing  the  step  of  his  master,  hastened  to  meet  him, 
which  cut  short  the  conversation.  But  Raoul  was  launched 
into  the  sea  of  interrogatories,  and  did  not  stop.  Taking 
both  hands  of  the  comte,  with  warm  but  respectful  tender- 
ness: 

"How  is  it,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "that  you  have  set  out 
upon  a  dangerous  voyage  without  bidding  me  adieu,  with- 
out commanding  the  aid  of  my  sword,  of  myself,  who  ought 
to  be  your  support,  now  I  have  the  strength;  of  me,  whom 
you  have  brought  up  like  a  man?  Ah!  monsieur,  why 
would  you  expose  me  to  the  cruel  trial  of  never  seeing  you 
again?" 

"Who  told  you,  Eaoul,"  said  the  comte,  placing  his  cloak 
and  hat  in  the  hands  of  Grimaud,  who  had  unbuckled  his 
sword,  "who  told  you  that  my  voyage  was  a  dangerous  one?" 

"I,"  said  Grimaud. 

"And  why  did  you  do  so?"  said  Athos  sternly. 

Grimaud  was  embarrassed;  Eaoul  came  to  his  assistance 
by  answering  for  him. 

"It  is  natural,  monsieur,  that  our  good  Grimaud  should 
tell  me  the  truth  in  what  concerns  you.  By  whom  should 
you  be  loved  and  supported,  if  not  by  me?" 

Athos  did  not  reply.  He  made  a  friendly  motion  to 
Grimaud,  which  sent  him  out  of  the  room;  he  then  seated 
himself  in  a  fauteuil,  while  Eaoul  remained  standing  before 
him. 

"But  is  :t  true,"  continued  Eaoul,  "that  your  voyage 
was  an  expedition,  and  that  steel  and  fire  threatened  you?" 

"Say  no  more  about  that,  vicomte,"  said  Athos  mildly. 
"I  set  out  hastily,  it  is  true;  but  the  service  of  King 
Charles  II.  required  a  prompt  departure.  As  to  your 
anxiety,  I  thank  you  for  it,  and  I  know  that  I  can  depend 
upon  yon.  You  have  not  wanted  for  anything,  vicomte,  in 
my  absence,  have  you?" 

"No,  monsieur,  thank  you." 


328  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELON-NE. 

"I  left  orders  with  Blaisois  to  pay  you  a  hundred  pistoles, 
if  you  should  stand  in  need  of  money." 

"Monsieur,  I  have  not  seen  Blaisois." 

"You  have  been  without  money,  then?" 

"Monsieur,  I  had  thirty  pistoles  left  from  the  sale  of  the 
horses  I  took  in  my  last  campaign,  and  Monsieur  le  Prince 
had  the  kindness  to  make  me  win  two  hundred  pistoles  at 
his  play-table  three  months  ago." 

"Do  you  play?    I  don't  like  that,  Raoul." 

"I  never  play,  monsieur;  it  was  Monsieur  le  Prince  who 
ordered  me  to  hold  his  cards  at  Chantilly — one  night  when 
a  courier  came  to  him  from  the  king.  I  won,  and  Monsieur 
le  Prince  commanded  me  to  take  the  stakes." 

"Is  that  a  practice  of  the  household,  Raoul?"  asked 
Athos,  with  a  frown. 

"Yes,  monsieur;  every  week  Monsieur  le  Prince  affords, 
upon  one  occasion  or  another,  a  similar  advantage  to  one  of 
his  gentlemen.  There  are  fifty  gentlemen  in  his  highness' 
household;  it  was  my  turn  that  time." 

"Very  well.     You  went  into  Spain,  then?" 

"Yes,  monsieur;  I  made  a  very  delightful  and  interesting 
journey." 

"You  have  been  back  a  month,  have  you  not?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"And  in  the  course  of  that  month?" 

"In  that  month " 

"What  have  you  done?" 

"My  duties,  monsieur." 

"Have  you  not  been  home,  to  La  Fere?" 

Raoul  colored.  Athos  looked  at  him  with  a  fixed  but 
tranquil  expression. 

"You  would  be  wrong  not  to  believe  me,"  said  Raoul. 
"I  feel  that  I  colored,  and  in  spite  of  myself.  The  ques- 
tion you  did  me  the  honor  to  ask  me  is  of  a  nature  to  raise 
in  me  much  emotion.  I  color,  then,  because  I  am  agitated, 
not  because  I  meditate  a  falsehood." 

"I  know,  Raoul,  that  you  never  lie." 

"No,  monsieur." 

"Besides,  my  young  friend,  you  would  be  wrong;  what  I 
wanted  to  say " 

"I  know  quite  well,  monsieur.  You  would  ask  me  if  1 
have  not  been  to  Blois?" 

"Exactly  so." 

"J  iiave  not  been  there;  I  have  not  even  seen  the  person 
<  i  whom  you  would  speak  to  me," 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  329 

The  voice  of  Raoul  trembled  as  he  pronounced  these 
words.  Athos,  a  sovereign  judge  in  all  matters  of  delicacy, 
immediately  added: 

"Raoul,  you  answer  with  a  painful  feeling;  you  are  un- 
happy." 

"Very,  monsieur;  you  have  forbidden  me  to  go  to  Blois 
or  to  see  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere  again." 

Here  the  young  man  stopped.  That  dear  name,  so  de- 
lightful to  pronounce,  made  his  heart  bleed,  although  so 
sweet  upon  his  lips. 

"And  I  have  acted  correctly,  Raoul,"  Athos  hastened  to 
reply.  "I  am  neither  an  unjust  nor  a  barbarous  father;  I 
respect  true  love;  but  I  look  forward  for  you  for  a  future — ■ 
an  immense  future.  A  new  reign  is  about  to  break  upon 
us  like  a  fresh  dawn.  War  calls  upon  a  young  king  full  of 
chivalric  spirit.  What  is  wanting  to  assist  this  heroic  ardor 
is  a  battalion  of  young  and  free  lieutenants  who  would  rush 
to  the  fight  with  enthusiasm,  and  fall,  crying:  '  Vive  U 
Roi,'  instead  of  'Adieu,  my  dear  wife!'  You  understand 
that,  Raoul.  However  brutal  my  reasoning  may  appear  to 
be,  I  conjure  you,  then,  to  believe  me,  and  to  turn  away 
your  thoughts  from  those  early  days  of  youth  in  which  you 
took  up  this  habit  of  love — days  of  effeminate  carelessness, 
which  soften  the  heart  and  render  it  incapable  of  contain- 
ing those  strong,  bitter  draughts  called  glory  and  adversity. 
Therefore,  Raoul,  I  repeat  to  you,  you  should  see  in  my 
counsel  only  the  desire  of  being  useful  to  you,  only  the 
ambition  of  seeing  you  prosper.  I  believe  you  capable  of 
becoming  a  remarkable  man.  March  alone,  and  you  will 
march  better,  and  more  quickly." 

"You  have  commanded,  monsieur,"  replied  Raoul,  "and 
I  obey." 

"Commanded!"  cried  Athos.  "Is  it  thus  you  reply  to 
me?  I  have  commanded  you!  Oh!  you  distort  my  words 
as  you  misconceive  my  intentions.  I  did  not  command 
you;  I  requested  you." 

"No,  monsieur,  you  have  commanded,"  said  Raoul  per- 
sistently; "had  you  only  requested  me,  your  request  is  still 
more  effective  than  your  order.  I  have  not  seen  Made- 
moiselle de  la  Valliere  again." 

"But  you  are  unhappy;  you  are  unhappy!"  insisted  Athos. 

Raoul  made  no  reply. 

"I  find  you  pale;  I  find  you  dull.  The  sentiment  is 
strong,  then?" 

'"It  is  a  passion,"  replied  Raoul. 


330  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONHE. 

"No— a  habit." 

"Monsieur,  you  know  I  have  traveled  much,  that  I  have 
passed  two  years  far  from  her.  A  habit  would  yield  to  an 
absence  of  two  years,  I  believe;  whereas,  on  my  return,  I 
loved,  not  more,  that  was  impossible,  but  as  much.  Made- 
moiselle de  la  Valliere  is  for  me  the  mate  above  all  others; 
but  you  are  for  me  a  god  upon  earth — to  you  I  sacrifice 
everything." 

"You  are  wrong,"  said  Athos;  "I  have  no  longer  any 
right  over  you.  Age  has  emancipated  you;  you  no  longer 
even  stand  in  need  of  my  consent.  Besides,  I  will  not  re- 
fuse my  consent  after  what  you  have  told  me.  Marry 
Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere,  if  you  like." 

Raoul  was  startled,  but  suddenly: 

"You  are  very  kind,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "and  your 
concession  excites  my  warmest  gratitude,  but  I  will  not 
accept  it." 

"Then  you  now  refuse?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"I  will  not  oppose  you  in  anything,  Raoul." 

"But  you  have  at  the  bottom  of  your  heart  an  idea 
against  this  marriage;  you  have  not  chosen  it." 

"That  is  true." 

"That  is  sufficient  to  make  me  not  persist;  I  will  wait." 

"Beware,  Raoul!     What  you  are  now  saying  is  serious." 

"I  know  it  is,  monsieur;  as  I  said,  I  will  wait." 

"Until  I  die?"  said  Athos,  much  agitated. 

"Oh!  monsieur,"  cried  Raoul,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "is 
it  possible  that  you  should  wound  my  heart  thus?  I  have 
never  given  you  cause  of  complaint!" 

"Dear  boy,  that  is  true,"  murmured  Athos,  pressing  his 
lips  violently  together  to  suppress  the  emotion  of  which  he 
was  no  longer  master.  "No,  I  will  no  longer  afflict  you; 
only  I  do  not  comprehend  what  you  mean  by  waiting. 
Will  you  wait  till  you  love  no  longer?" 

"Ah!  for  that! — no,  monsieur.  I  will  wait  till  you 
change  your  opinion." 

"I  should  wish  to  put  the  matter  to  a  test,  Raoul;  I 
should  like  to  see  if  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere  will  wait  as 
you  do." 

"I  hope  so,  monsieur." 

"But,  take  care,  Raoul.  If  she  did  not  wait?  Ah!  you 
are  so  young,  so  confiding,  so  loyal!  AVomen  are  change- 
able." 

"You  have  never  spoken  ill  to  me  of  women,  monsieur; 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  331 

you  have  never  had  to  complain  of  them;  why  should  you 
doubt  of  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere?" 

"That  is  true,"  said  Athos,  casting  down  his  eyes;  ''I 
have  never  spoken  ill  to  you  of  women;  I  have  never  had  to 
complain  of  them;  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere  never  gave 
birth  to  a  suspicion;  but  when  we  are  looking  forward,  we 
must  go  even  to  exceptions,  even  to  improbabilities.  If,  I 
say,  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere  should  not  wait  for  you?" 

"How,  monsieur?" 

"If  she  turned  her  eyes  another  way." 

"If  she  looked  favorably  upon  another  man,  do  you  mean 
that,  monsieur?"  said  Eaoul,  pale  with  agony. 

"Exactly." 

"Well,  monsieur,  I  would  kill  that  man,"  said  Eaoul 
simply,  "and  all  the  men  whom  Mademoiselle  de  la  Vallere 
should  choose,  until  one  of  them  had  killed  me,  or  Made- 
moiselle de  la  Valliere  had  restored  me  her  heart." 

Athos  started.  "I  thought,"  resumed  he,  in  an  agitated 
voice,  "that  you  called  me  just  now  your  god,  your  law  in 
this  world." 

"Oh!"  said  Kaoul,  trembling,  "you  would  forbid  me  the 
duel?" 

"If  I  forbid  it,  Eaoul?" 

"You  would  forbid  me  to  hope,  monsieur;  consequently 
you  would  not  forbid  me  to  die." 

Athos  raised  his  eyes  toward  the  vicomte.  He  had  pro- 
nounced these  words  with  the  most  melancholy  inflection, 
accompanied  by  the  most  melancholy  look.  "Enough," 
said  Athos,  after  a  long  silence,  "enough  of  this  subject, 
upon  which  we  both  go  too  far.  Live  as  well  as  you  are 
able,  Eaoul,  perform  your  duties,  love  Mademoiselle  de  la 
Valliere;  in  a  word,  act  like  a  man,  since  you  have  attained 
the  age  of  a  man;  only  do  not  forget  that  I  love  you  ten- 
derly, and  that  you  profess  to  love  me." 

"Ah!  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  cried  Eaoul,  pressing  the 
hand  of  Athos  to  his  heart. 

"Enough,  dear  boy;  leave  me;  I  want  rest.  Apropos, 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan  has  returned  from  England  with  me; 
you  owe  him  a  visit." 

"I  will  go  and  pay  it  him,  monsieur,  with  great  pleasure. 
I  love  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  exceedingly." 

"You  are  right  in  doing  so;  he  is  a  worthy  man  and  a 
brave  cavalier." 

"Who  loves  you  dearly." 

"I  am  sure  of  that.     Do  you  know  his  address?" 


33:2  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"At  the  Louvre,  I  suppose,  or  wherever  the  king  is. 
Does  he  not  command  the  musketeers?" 

''No;  at  present  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  is  absent  on  leave; 
he  is  resting  a  little.  Do  not,  therefore,  seek  him  at  the 
posts  of  his  service.  You  will  hear  of  him  at  the  house  of 
a  certain  Planchet." 

"His  former  lackey?" 

"Exactly;  turned  grocer." 

"I  know;  Rue  des  Lombards?" 

"Somewhere  thereabouts,  or  Rue  des  Arcis." 

"I  will  find  it,  monsieur — I  will  find  it." 

"You  will  say  a  thousand  kind  things  to  him,  on  my 
oart,  and  ask  him  to  come  and  dine  with  me  before  I  set 
out  for  La  Fere." 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Good-night,  Raoul." 

"Monsieur,  I  see  you  wear  an  order  I  never  saw  you  wear 
before;  accept  my  compliments." 

"The  Fleece!  that  is  true.  A  coral,  my  boy,  which  no 
longer  amuses  even  an  old  child  like  myself.  Good-night. 
Raoul!" 


CHAPTER    ML 

d'artagnan's  lesson. 

Raoul  did  not  meet  with  D'Artagnan  the  next  day,  as  he 
had  hoped.  He  only  met  with  Planchet,  whose  joy  was 
great  at  seeing  the  young  man  again,  and  who  contrived  to 
pay  him  two  or  three  little  soldierly  compliments  savoring 
very  little  of  the  grocer's  shop.  But  as  Raoul  was  return- 
ing the  next  day  from  Vincennes,  at  the  head  of  fifty 
dragoons  confided  to  him  by  M.  le  Prince,  he  perceived,  in 
La  Place  Baudcyer,  a  man  with  his  nose  in  the  air,  examin- 
ing a  house  as  we  examine  a  horse  we  have  a  fancy  to  buy. 
This  man,  dressed  in  citizen  costume,  buttoned  up  like  a 
military  pourpoint,  a  very  small  hat  on  his  head,  but  a  long 
shagreen-mounted  sword  by  his  side,  turned  his*  head  as 
soon  as  he  heard  the  steps  of  the  horses,  and  left  off  look- 
ing at  the  house  to  look  at  the  dragoons.  This  was  simply 
M.  d'Artagnan;  D'Artagnan  on  foot;  D'Artagnan  with  his 
hands  behind  him,  passing  a  little  review  upon  the  dragoons, 
after  having  reviewed  the  buildings.     Not  a  man,  not  a  tag, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  333 

not  a  horse's  hoof  escaped  his  inspection.  Eaoul  rode  at 
the  side  of  his  troop;  D'Artagnan  perceived  him  the  last. 

"Eh!"  said  he,  "eh,  mordioux ! 

"I  was  not  mistaken!"  cried  Kaoul,  turning  his  horse 
toward  him. 

"Mistaken — no!  Good-day  to  you,"  replied  the  ex-mus~ 
keteer;  while  Eaoul  eagerly  pressed  the  hand  of  his  old 
friend.  "Take  care,  Eaoul,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "the  second 
horse  of  the  fifth  rank  will  lose  a  shoe  before  he  gets  to 
Pont  Marie;  he  has  only  two  nails  left  in  his  off  forefoot." 

"Wait  a  minute,  I  will  come  back,"  said  Eaoul. 

"Can  you  quit  your  detachment?" 

"The  cornet  is  there  to  take  my  place." 

"Then  you  Avill  come  and  dine  with  me?" 

"Most  willingly,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan." 

"Be  quick,  then;  leave  your  horse,  and  make  them  give 
me  one." 

"I  prefer  coming  back  on  foot  with  you." 

Eaoul  hastened  to  give  notice  to  the  cornet,  who  took  his 
post;  he  then  dismounted,  gave  his  horse  to  one  of  the 
dragoons,  and  with  great  delight  seized  the  arm  of  M.  d'Ar- 
tagnan, who  had  watched  him  during  all  these  little  evolu- 
tions with  the  satisfaction  of  a  connoisseur. 

"What,  do  you  come  from  Vincennes?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier." 

"And  the  cardinal?" 

"Is  very  ill;  it  is  even  reported  he  is  dead." 

"Are  you  on  good  terms  with  Monsieur  Fouquet?"  asked 
D'Artagnan,  with  a  disdainful  movement  of  the  shoulders, 
proving  that  the  death  of  Mazarin  did  not  affect  him  beyond 
measure. 

"With  Monsieur  Fouquet?"  said  Eaoul;  "I  do  not  know 
him." 

"So  much  the  worse!  so  much  the  worse!  for  a  new  king 
always  seeks  to  get  creatures." 

"Oh!  the  king  means  no  harm,"  replied  the  young  man. 

"I  say  nothing  about  the  crown,"  cried  D'Artagnan;  "I 
am  speaking  of  the  king,  the  king,  that  is  Monsieur  Fou- 
quet, if  the  cardinal  is  dead.  You  must  contrive  to  be  well 
with  Monsieur  Fouquet,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  molder  away 
all  your  life  as  I  have  moldered.  It  is  true  you  have,  for- 
tunately, other  protectors." 

"Monsieur  le  Prince,  for  instance." 

"Worn  out!  worn  out!" 

"Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere?" 


334  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BS A OELONNE. 

"Athos!  oh,  that's  different;  yes,  Athos — and  if  you  have 
any  wish  to  make  your  way  in  England,  you  cannot  apply 
to  a  better  person.  I  can  even  say,  without  too  much 
vanity,  that  I  myself  have  some  credit  at  the  court  of 
Charles  II.     There  is  a  king — God  speed  him!" 

"Ah!"  cried  Kaoul,  with  the  natural  curiosity  of  well- 
born young  people  while  listening  to  experience  and  courage. 

"Yes,  a  king  who  amuses  himself,  it  is  true,  but  who  has 
had  a  sword  in  his  hand  and  can  appreciate  useful  men. 
Athos  is  on  good  terms  with  Charles  II.  Take  service 
there,  and  leave  these  scoundrels  of  contractors  and  farmers- 
general,  who  steal  as  well  with  French  hands  as  others  have 
done  with  Italian  hands;  leave  the  little  sniveling  king, 
who  is  going  to  give  us  another  reign  of  Francis  II.  Do 
you  know  anything  of  history,  Raoul?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier." 

"Do  you  know,  then,  that  Francis  II.  had  always  the 

"No,  I  did  not  know  that." 

"That  Charles  IV.  had  always  the  headache?" 

"Indeed!" 

"And  Henry  III.,  always  the  stomachache?" 

Raoul  began  to  laugh. 

"Well,  my  dear  friend,  Louis  XIV.  always  has  the  heart 
ache;  it  is  deplorable  to  see  a  king  sighing  from   morning 
till  night,  without  saying  once  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
ventre-saint-gris !  corbceiif!  or  anything  to  rouse  one." 

"Was  that  the  reason  why  you  quitted  the  service,  Mon- 
sieur le  Chevalier?" 

"Yes." 

"But  you  yourself,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  are  throwing 
the  handle  after  the  axe;  you  will  not  make  a  fortune." 

"Who!  I?"  replied  D'Artagnan,  in  a  careless  tone;  c'\ 
am  settled — I  have  some  family  property." 

Raoul  looked  at  him.  The  poverty  of  D'Artagnan  was 
proverbial.  A  Gascon,  he  exceeded  in  ill-luck  all  the  Gas- 
connades  of  France  and  Navarre;  Raoul  had  a  hundred 
times  heard  Job  and  D'Artagnan  named  together,  as  the 
twins  Romulus  and  Remus  are  named,  D'Artagnan  caught 
Raoul's  look  of  astonishment. 

"And  has  not  your  father  told  you  I  have  been  in  Eng 
land?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier." 

"And  that  1  had  there  met  with  a  very  lucky  chance?' 

"No,  monsieur,  1  did  not  know  that." 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  33-r> 

"Yes,  a  very  worthy  friend  of  mine,  a  great  nobleman, 
the  Viceroy  of  Scotland  and  Ireland-  has  endowed  me  with 
an  inheritance." 

"An  inheritance?" 

"And  a  good  one,  too." 

"Then  you  are  rich?" 

"Pugh!" 

"Receive  my  sincere  congratulation.'* 

"Thank  you!     Look,  that  is  my  house.'* 

"Place  de  Greve?" 

"Yes;  you  don't  like  this  quarter?" 

"On  the  contrary,  the  lookout  on  the  water  is  pleasant. 
Oh,  what  a  pretty  old  house!" 

"The  sign  Notre  Dame;  it  is  an  old  cabaret,  which  I 
have  transformed  into  a  private  house  in  two  days." 

"But  the  cabaret  is  still  open?" 

"Pardieu  !" 

"And  where  do  you  lodge,  then?" 

"I?     I  lodge  with  Planchet." 

"You  said,  just  now,  'This  is  my  house.'  " 

"I  said  so,  because,  in  fact,  it  is  my  house.  I  have 
bought  it." 

"Ah!"  said  Eaoul. 

"At  ten  years'  purchase,  my  dear  Raoul;  a  superb  affair. 
I  bought  the  house  for  thirty  thousand  livres;  it  has  a 
garden  that  opens  to  the  Rue  de  la  Matillerie;  the  cabaret 
lets  for  a  thousand  livres,  with  the  first  story;  the  garret, 
or  second  floor,  for  five  hundred  livres." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"Five  hundred  livres  for  a  garret?  Why,  that  is  not 
habitable." 

"Therefore  no  one  does  inhabit  it;  only,  you  see,  this 
garret  has  two  windows  which  look  out  upon  the  Place." 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Well,  then,  every  time  anybody  is  broken  on  the  wheel, 
or  hung,  quartered,  or  burned,  these  two  windows  are  let 
for  twenty  pistoles." 

"Oh!"  said  Raoul,  with  horror. 

"It  is  disgusting;  is  it  not?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Oh!"  repeated  Raoul. 

"It  is  disgusting,  but  so  it  is.  These  Parisian  cockneys 
are  sometimes  real  anthropophagi.  I  cannot  conceive  how 
Kuen,  Christians,  can  make  such  speculation." 

"That  is  true." 


336  THE  VICOMTE  DB  BRAGELONNE. 

"As  for  myself/'  continued  D'Artagnan,  "if  I  inhabited 
that  house,  on  days  of  execution  I  would  shut  it  up  to  the 
very  keyholes;  but  I  do  not  inhabit  it." 

"And  you  let  the  garret  for  five  hundred  livres?" 

"To  the  ferocious  cabaretier,  who  sublets  it.  I  said  then 
fifteen  hundred  livres." 

"The  natural  interest  of  money,"  said  Raoul,  "five  per 
cent." 

"Exactly  so.  I  then  have  left  the  side  of  the  house  at 
the  hack,  magazines,  lodgings,  and  cellars,  inundated  every 
winter,  two  hundred  livres;  and  the  garden,  which  is  very 
fine,  well  planted,  well  shaded  under  the  walls  and  portal 
of  St.  Gervais  and  St.  Protais,  thirteen  hundred  livres." 

''Thirteen  hundred  livres!  why,  that  is  royal!" 

"This  is  the  history  ©f  it.  I  strongly  suspect  some  canon 
of  the  parish  (these  canons  are  all  as  rich  as  Croesus) — I 
suspect  some  canon  of  having  hired  the  garden  to  take  his 
pleasure  in.  The  tenant  has  given  the  name  of  Monsieur 
Godard.  That  is  either  a  false  name  or  a  real  name;  \i 
true,  he  is  a  canon;  if  false,  he  is  some  unknown;  but  of 
what  consequence  is  it  to  me?  he  always  pays  in  advance 
I  had  also  an  idea  just  now,  when  I  met  you,  of  buying  a 
house  in  the  Place  Baudoyer,  the  back  premises  of  which 
join  my  garden,  and  would  make  a  magnificent  property. 
Your  dragoons  interrupted  my  calculations.  But  come, 
let  us  take  the  Bue  de  la  Yannerie,  that  will  lead  us  straight 
to  Monsieur  Planchet's."  D'Artagnan  mended  his  pace, 
and  conducted  Baoul  to  Planchet's  dwelling,  a  chamber  of 
which  the  grocer  had  given  up  to  his  old  master.  Planchet 
was  out,  but  the  dinner  was  ready.  There  was  a  remains 
of  military  regularity  and  punctuality  preserved  in  the 
grocer's  household.  D'Artagnan  returned  to  the  chapter 
of  Raoul's  future. 

"Your  father  keeps  you  rather  strictly?"  said  he. 

"Justly,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  Athos  is  just;  but  close,  perhaps?" 

"A  royal  hand,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan." 

"Well,  never  want,  my  boy.  12  ever  you  stand  in  need 
of  a  few  pistoles,  the  old  musketeer  is  at  hand." 

"My  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan!" 

"Do  you  play  a  little?" 

"Never." 

'Successful  with  the  ladies,  then?  Oh,  my  little  AramisJ 
That  my  dear  friend,  costs  still  more  than  play.  It  is  true 
v. -j  fight  when  we  lose;  that  is  a  compensation.     Bah!    the 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNB.  337 

little  sniveler  of  a  king  makes  men  who  draw  pay  for  it. 
What  a  reign!  my  poor  Raoul,  what  a  reign!  When  we 
think  that,  in  my  time,  the  musketeers  were  besieged  in 
their  houses,  like  Hector  and  Priam  in  the  city  of  Troy; 
and  then  the  women  wept,  and  then  the  walls  laughed,  and 
then  five  hundred  beggarly  fellows  clapped  their  hands,  and 
cried,  'Kill,  kill!'  when  not  one  musketeer  was  hurt.  Mor- 
dioux!  you  will  never  see  anything  like  that." 

"You  are  very  hard  upon  the  king,  my  dear  Monsieur 
d'Artagnan;,and  yet  you  scarcely  know  him." 

"I!  Listen,  Raoul.  Day  by  day,  hour  by  hour — take 
note  of  my  words — I  will  predict  what  he  will  do.  The 
cardinal  being  dead,  he  will  weep;  very  well,  that  is  the 
thing  the  least  silly  he  will  do,  particularly  if  he  does  not 
shed  a  tear." 

"And  then?" 

"Why  then  he  will  get  Monsieur  Fouquet  to  allow  him  a 
pension,  and  will  go  and  compose  verses  at  Fontainebleau, 
upon  some  Mancini  or  other,  whose  eyes  the  queen  will 
scratch  out.  She  is  a  Spaniard,  see  you,  this  queen  of  ours; 
and  she  has,  as  a  mother-in-law,  Madame  Anne  of  Austria. 
I  know  something  of  the  Spaniards  of  the  house  of  Austria." 

"And  next?" 

"Well,  after  having  torn  off  the  silver  lace  from  the  uni- 
forms of  his  Swiss,  because  lace  is  too  expensive,  he  will 
dismount  the  musketeers,  because  the  oats  and  hay  of  a 
horse  cost  five  sols  a  day." 

"Oh!  do  not  say  that." 

"Of  what  consequence  is  it  to  ma,  I  am  no  longer  a  mus- 
keteer, am  I?  Let  them  be  on  horseback,  let  them  be  on 
foot,  let  them  carry  a  larding-pin,  a  sj)it,  a  sword,  or  noth- 
ing— what  is  it  to  me?" 

"My  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  I  beseech  you,  say  no 
more  ill  to  me  of  the  king.  I  am  almost  in  his  service, 
and  my  father  would  be  very  angry  with  me  for  having 
heard  even  from  your  mouth  words  that  were  offensive  to 
his  majesty." 

"Your  father,  eh!  He  is  a  knight  in  every  bad  cause. 
Pardieu  !  yes,  your  father  is  a  brave,  is  a  Ca?sar,  it  is  true, 
but  a  man  without  perception." 

"Now,  my  dear  chevalier,"  exclaimed  Raoul,  laughing, 
"what,  are  you  going  to  speak  ill  of  my  father,  of  him  yon 
call  the  great  Athos?  Truly,  you  are  in  a  bad  vein  to-day; 
riches  render  you  as  sour  as  poverty  renders  other  people." 

"Pardieu!  you  are  right.     I  am  a  rascal  and  in  my  dotage; 


338  THE  YICOMTE   DE   BRAOELCCNTNE. 

I  am  an  anhappy  wretch  grown  old,  a  forage-cord  untwisted, 
a  pierced  cuirass,  a  boot  without  a  sole,  a  spur  without  a 
rowel;  but  do  me  the  pleasure  to  say  one  thing  for  me?" 

"What  is  that,  my  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan?" 

"Say  this  to  me:  'Mazarin  was  a  pitiful  wretch.' ;' 

"Perhaps  he  is  dead." 

"More  the  reason — I  say  was  ;  if  I  did  not  hope  that  he 
was  dead  I  would  entreat  you  to  say:  'Mazarin  is  a  pitiful 
wretch.'     Come  say  so,  say  so,  for  the  love  of  me." 

"Well,  I  will." 

"Say  it!" 

"Mazarin  was  a  pitiful  wretch,"  said  Raoul,  smiling  at 
the  musketeer,  who  roared  with  laughter,  as  in  his  best 
days. 

"A  moment,"  said  the  latter;  "you  have  spoken  my 
first  proposition,  here  is  the  conclusion  of  it;  repeat,  Raoul, 
repeat:  'But  I  regret  Mazarin.'  " 

"Chevalier!" 

"You  will  not  say  it?  Well,  then,  I  will  say  it  twice  for 
you." 

"But  you  would  regret  Mazarin?" 

And  they  were  still  laughing  and  discussing  this  digest- 
ing of  a  profession  of  principles  when  one  of  the  shop-boys 
entered.  "A  letter,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "for  Monsieur 
d'Artagnan." 

"Thank  you;  give  it  me,"  cried  the  musketeer. 

"The  handwriting  cf  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  Raoul. 

"Yes,  yes."     And  D'Artagnan  broke  the  seal. 

"Dear  friend,"  wrote  Athos,  "a  person  has  just  been 
here  to  beg  me  to  seek  for  you,  on  the  part  of  the  king." 

"Seek  me!"  said  D'Artagnan,  letting  the  paper  fall  upon 
the  table.  Raoul  picked  it  up,  and  continued  to  read 
aloud: 

"Make  haste.  His  majesty  is  very  anxious  to  speak  to 
you,  and  expects  you  at  the  Louvre." 

"Expects  me!"  again  repeated  the  musketeer. 

"He!  he!  he!"  laughed  Raoul. 

"Oh,  oh!"  replied  D'Artagnan.  "What  the  devil  cau 
this  mean?" 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  339 

CHAPTEE    LIII. 

THE   KING. 

The  first  movement  of  surprise  overj  D'Artagnan  re- 
perused  Athos'  note.  "It  is  strange,"  said  he,  "that  the 
king  should  send  for  me." 

"Why  so?"  said  Eaoul;  "do  you  not  think,  monsieur, 
that  the  king  must  regret  such  a  servant  as  you?" 

"Oh,  oh!"  cried  the  officer,  laughing  with  all  his  might; 
'you  are  jeering  at  me,  Master  Raoul.  If  the  king  had 
regretted  me,  he  would  not  have  let  me  leave  him.  No, 
no;  I  see  in  it  something  better,  or  worse,  if  you  like." 

"Worse!     What  can  that  be,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier?" 

"You  are  young,  you  are  a  boy,  you  are  admirable.  Oh, 
how  I  should  like  to  be  as  you  are!  To  be  but  twenty-four, 
with  an  unfurrowed  brow,  under  which  the  brain  is  void  of 
everything  but  woman,  love,  and  good  intentions.  Oh, 
Raoul,  as  long  as  you  have  not  received  the  smiles  of  kings, 
the  confidence  of  queens;  as  long  as  you  have  not  had  two 
cardinals  killed  under  you,  the  one  a  tiger  the  other  a  fox; 
as  long  as  you  have  not —  But  what  is  the  good  of  all  this 
trifling?     We  must  part,  Raoul." 

"How  you  speak  that!     What  a  serious  face!" 

"Eh!  but  the  occasion  i=  worthy  of  it.  Listen  to  me;  I 
have  a  very  good  recommendation  to  make  you." 

"T  am  all  attention,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan." 

"You  will  go  and  inform  your  tather  of  my  departure." 

"Your  departure?" 

"Pardieu  !  You  will  tell  him  that  I  am  gone  into  Eng- 
land; and  that  I  am  living  in  my  little  country  house." 

"In  England,  you!     And  the  king's  orders?" 

"You  get  more  and  more  silly;  do  you  imagine  that  1 
am  going  in  that  way  to  the  Louvre,  to  place  myself  at  the 
disposal  of  that  little  crowned  wolf-cub?" 

"The  king  a  wolf-cub?  why,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  you 
are  mad!" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  was  never  so  much  otherwise.  Yon 
do  not  know  what  he  wants  to  do  with  me,  this  worthy  son 
of  Louis  le  Juste!  But,  mordioux !  that  is  policy.  He 
wishes  to  ensconce  me  snugly  in  the  Bastile — purely  and 
simply,  see  you!" 

"What  for?"  cried  Raoul,  terrified  at  what  he  heard. 

"On  account  of  what  I  told  him  one  day  at  Blois.  I  was 
warm;  he  remembers  it." 


340  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

''You  told  him  what?" 

"That  he  was  mean,  cowardly,  and  silly." 

"Good  God!"  cried  Raoul,  "is  it  possible  that  such 
words  should  have  issued  from  your  mouth?" 

"Perhaps,  I  don't  give  the  letter  of  my  speech,  but  I  give 
the  sense  of  it." 

"But  did  not  the  king  have  you  arrested  immediately?" 

"By  whom?  It  was  I  who  commanded  the  musketeers;  he 
must  have  commanded  me  to  convey  myself  to  prison;  I 
would  never  have  consented;  I  would  have  resisted  myself. 
And  then  I  went  into  England — no  more  D'Artagnan. 
Now,  the  cardinal  is  dead,  or  nearly  so,  they  learn  that  I 
am  in  Paris,  and  they  lay  their  hands  on  me." 

"The  cardinal  was,  then,  your  protector?" 

"The  cardinal  knew  me;  he  knew  certain  particularities 
of  me;  I  also  knew  certain  of  him;  we  appreciated  each 
other  mutually.  And  then,  on  rendering  his  soul  to  the  devil, 
he  would  recommend  Anne  of  Austria  to  make  me  the  in- 
habitant of  a  safe  place.  Go  then  and  find  your  father, 
relate  the  fact  to  him — and,  adieu!" 

"My  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  said  Raoul,  very  much 
agitated,  after  having  looked  out  at  the  window,  "you  can 
not  even  fly!" 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  there  is  below  an  officer  of  the  Swiss  guards 
waiting  for  you." 

"Well!" 

"Well,  he  will  arrest  you." 

D'Artagnan  broke  into  a  Homeric  laugh. 

"Oh!  I  know  very  well  that  you  will  resist,  that  you  will 
fight  even;  I  know  very  well  that  you  will  prove  conqueror; 
but  that  amounts  to  rebellion,  and  you  are  an  officer  your- 
self, knowing  what  discipline  is." 

"Devil  of  a  boy,  how  noble,  how  logical  that  is!"  grum- 
bled D'Artagnan. 

"You  approve  of  it,  do  you  not?" 

"Yes,  instead  of  passing  into  the  street,  where  the  oaf  is 
waiting  for  me,  I  will  slip  quietly  out  at  the  back.  I  have 
a  horse  in  the  stable,  and  a  good  one.  I  will  burst  him, 
my  means  permit  me  to  do  so,  and  by  killing  one  horse  after 
another,  I  shall  arrive  at  Boulogne  in  eleven  hours;  I  know 
the  road.     Only  tell  your  father  one  thing." 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  is:  that  that  which  he  knows  about  is  placed  at 
Planchet's  house,  except  a  fifth,  and  that " 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  341 

"But,  my  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  be  assured  that  if 
you  fly,  two  things  will  be  said  of  you." 

"What  are  they,  my  dear  friend?" 

"The  first,  that  you  have  been  afraid/' 

"Ah!  and  who  will  dare  to  say  that?" 

"The  king,  the  first." 

"Well!  but  he  will  tell  the  truth— I  am  afraid," 

"The  second,  that  you  felt  yourself  guilty," 

"Guilty  of  what?" 

"Why,  of  the  crimes  they  wish  to  impute  to  you." 

"That  is  true  again.  So  then,  you  advise  me  to  go  and 
get  myself  made  a  prisoner  in  the  Bastile?" 

"Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere  would  advise  you  just  as 
I  do." 

''Pardieu  !  I  know  he  would,"  said  D'Artagnan  thought- 
fully. "You  are  right,  I  shall  not  escape.  But  if  they 
cast  me  into  the  Bastile?" 

"We  will  get  you  out  again,"  said  Raoul,  with  a  quiet, 
calm  air. 

" 'Mordioux  !  You  said  that  after  a  brave  fashion,  Raoul," 
said  D'Artagnan,  seizing  his  hand;  "that  savors  of  Athos, 
quite  pure.  Well,  I  will  go,  then.  Do  not  forget  my  last 
word." 

"Except  a  fifth,"  said  Eaoul. 

"Yes,  you  are  a  fine  boy;  and  I  wish  you  to  add  one 
thing  to  that  last  word." 

"Speak,  chevalier." 

"It  is  that  if  you  cannot  get  me  out  of  the  Bastile,  and 
that  I  remain  there —  Oh!  that  will  be  so,  and  I  shall  be  a 
detestable  prisoner;  I,  who  have  been  a  passable  man — in 
that  case,  I  give  three-fifths  to  you,  and  the  fourth  to  your 
father." 

"Chevalier!" 

"Mordioux!  If  you  will  have  some  masses  said  forme, 
you  are  welcome." 

That  being  said,  D'Artagnan  took  his  belt  from  the  hook; 
girded  on  his  sword,  took  a  hat,  the  feather  of  which  was 
fresh,  and  held  his  hand  out  to  Raoul,  who  threw  himself 
into  his  arms.  When  in  the  shop  he  cast  a  quick  glance  at 
the  shop-lads,  who  looked  upon  the  scene  with  a  pricl^ 
mingled  with  some  inquietude;  then,  plunging  his  hanas 
into  a  chest  of  currants,  he  went  straight  to  the  officer  who 
was  waiting  for  him  at  the  door. 

"Those  features!  Can  it  be  you,  Monsieur  Je  Friedisch?" 
cried  D'Artagnan  gaylv-  "Eh!  eh!  what,  dp  we  arrest  oui 
friends?" 


342  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Arrest!"  whispered  the  lads  among  ;nemselves. 

"Yes,  it  is  I,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan!  Good-day  Id  jouP* 
said  the  Swiss,  in  his  mountain  patois. 

"Must  I  give  you  up  my  sword?  I  warn  you,  that  it  is 
long  and  heavy;  you  had  better  let  me  wear  it  to  the 
Louvre;  I  feel  quite  lost  in  the  streets  without  a  sword, 
and  you  would  be  more  at  a  loss  than  I  should  with  two." 

"The  king  has  given  no  orders  about  it,"  replied  the 
Swiss;  "so  keep  your  sword." 

"Well,  that  is  very  polite  on  the  part  of  the  king.  Let 
us  go  at  once." 

M.  Friedisch  was  not  a  talker,  and  D'Artagnan  had  too 
much  to  think  about  to  be  one.  From  Planchet's  shop  to 
the  Louvre  was  not  far;  they  arrived  in  ten  minutes.  It 
was  a  dark  night.  M.  de  Friedisch  wanted  to  enter  by  the 
ticket.  "No,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "you  would  lose  time  by 
that;  take  the  little  staircase." 

The  Swiss  did  as  D'Artagnan  advised,  and  conducted  him 
to  the  vestibule  of  the  king's  cabinet.  When  arrived  there 
he  bowed  to  his  prisoner,  and,  without  saying  anything, 
returned  to  his  post.  D'Artagnan  had  not  had  time  to  ask 
why  his  sword  was  not  taken  from  him  when  the  door  of 
the  cabinet  opened,  and  a  valet  de  chambre  called,  "Mon- 
sieur d'Artagnan!"  The  musketeer  assumed  his  parade 
carriage,  and  entered,  with  his  large  eyes  wide  open,  his 
brow  calm,  his  mustache  stiff.  The  king  was  seated  at  a 
table  writing.  He  did  not  disturb  himself  when  the  step 
of  the  musketeer  resounded  on  the  floor;  he  did  not  even 
turn  his  head.  D'Artagnan  advanced  as  far  as  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  seeing  that  the  king  paid  no  attention  to 
him,  and  suspecting,  besides,  that  that  was  nothing  but 
affectation,  a  sort  of  tormenting  preamble  to  the  explana- 
tion which  was  preparing,  he  turned  his  back  on  the  prince, 
and  began  to  examine  the  frescoas  on  the  cornices  and  the 
cracks  in  the  ceiling.  This  maneuver  was  accompanied 
by  this  little  tacit  monologue:  "Ah!  you  want  to  humble 
me,  do  you? — you,  whom  I  have  seen  so  young — you,  whom 
I  have  saved  as  I  would  my  own  child — you,  whom  I  have 
served,  as  I  would  a  God — that  is  to  say,  fof  nothing. 
Wait  awhile!  wait  awhile!  you  shall  see  what  a  man  can  do 
who  has  snuffed  the  air  of  the  fire  of  the  Huguenots,  unde* 
the  beard  of  Monsieur  le  Cardinal — the  true  cardinal.'"  At 
this  moment  Louis  turned  round. 

"Ah,  are  you  there,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan?"  said  he 

D'Artagnan  saw  the  and  imitated  it.     "Ye% 

sire."  said  he> 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  343 

"Very  wall;  have  the  goodness  to  wait  till  I  have  cast 
thi:  up.'' 

D'Artagnan  made  no  reply;  he  only  bowed.  ''That  is 
polite  enough/''  thought  he;  "I  have  nothing  to  say." 

Louis  made  a  violent  dash  wiuh  his  pen,  and  threw  it 
angrily  away. 

"Ah!  go  on,  work  yourself  up!"  thought  the  musketeer? 
"you  will  put  me  at  my  ease,  you  shall  find  I  did  not  empty 
the  bag,  the  other  day,  at  Blois." 

Louis  rose  from  his  seat,  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow; 
then,  stopping  opposite  to  D'Artagnan,  he  looked  at  him 
with  an  air  at  once  imperious  and  kind.  "What  the  devil 
does  he  want  with  me?  I  wish  he  would  begin!"  thought 
the  musketeer. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  king,  "you  know,  without  doubt, 
that  Monsieur  le  Cardinal  is  dead?" 

"I  suspected  so,  sire." 

"You  know  that,  consequently,  I  am  master  in  my  own 
kingdom?" 

"That  is  not  a  thing  that  dates  from  the  death  of  Mon- 
sieur le  Cardinal,  sire;  a  man  is  always  master  in  his  own 
house,  when  he  wishes  to  be  so." 

"Yes;  but  do  you  remember  all  you  said  to  me  at  Biois?" 

"Now  we  come  to  it,"  thought  D'Artagnan;  "I  was  not 
deceived.  Well,  so  much  the  better;  it  is  a  sign  that  my 
scent  is  tolerably  keen  yet." 

"You  do  not  answer  me,"  said  Louis* 

"Sire,  I  think  I  recollect." 

"You  only  think?" 

"It  is  so  long  ago." 

"If  you  do  not  remember,  I  do.  You  said  to  me — listen 
with  attention." 

"Ah!    I  shall  listen  with  all  my  ears,  sire;  for  it  is  very 
likely  the  conversation  will  turn  in  a  fashion  very  interest 
ing  to  me." 

Louis  once  more  looked  at  the  musketeer.  The  latter 
smoothed  the  feather  of  his  hat,  then  his  mustache,  and 
waited  intrepidly.  Louis  XIV.  continued:  "You  quitted 
my  service,  monsieur,  after  have  told  me  the  whole  truth?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"That  is,  after  having  declared  to  me  all  yon  thought  to 
be  true  with  regard  to  my  mode  of  thinking  and  acting. 
That  is  always  a  merit.  You  began  by  telling  me  that  you 
iiad  served  my  family  thirty  years,  and  were  tired." 

"X  said  so;  yes,  sire." 


344  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"And  you  afterward  admitted  that  mat  fatigue  was  a  pre 
text,  and  that  discontent  was  the  real  cause." 

"I  was  discontented,  in  fact;  but  that  discontent  hafc 
never  betrayed  itself,  that  I  know  of,  and  if,  like  a  man  of 
heart,  I  have  spoken  out  before  your  majesty,  I  have  not 
even  thought  of  the  matter  in  face  of  anybody  else." 

"Do  not  excuse  yourself,  D'Artagnan,  but  continue  to 
listen  to  me.  When  making  me  the  reproach  that  you  weie 
discontented,  you  received  in  reply  a  promise;  wait,  is  not 
that  true?" 

"Yes,  sire,  as  true  as  what  I  told  you." 

"You  answered  me,  'Hereafter?  No,  now,  immediately. ' 
Do  not  excuse  yourself,  I  tell  you.  It  was  natural,  but  you 
had  no  charity  for  your  poor  prince,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan.'' 

"Sire,  charity  for  a  king,  on  the  part  of  a  poor  soldier!" 

"You  understand  me  very  well;  you  knew  that  I  stood 
in  need  of  it;  you  knew  very  well  that  I  was  not  master; 
you  knew  very  well  that  my  hope  was  in  the  future.  Now, 
you  replied  to  me  when  I  spoke  of  that  future,  'My  dis- 
charge— and  that  directly.'" 

"That  is  true,"  murmured  D'Artagnan,  bating  his 
mustache. 

"You  did  not  flatter  me  when  I  was  in  distress,"  added 
Louis. 

"But,"  said  D'Artagnan,  raising  his  head  nobly,  "if  I 
did  not  flatter  your  majesty  when  poor,  neither  did  I  betray 

frou.  I  have  shed  my  blood  for  nothing;  I  have  watched 
ike  a  dog  at  a  door,  knowing  full  well  that  neither  bread 
nor  bone  would  be  thrown  to  me.  I,  although  poor  like- 
wise, asked  nothing  of  your  majesty  but  the  discharge  you 
sr)eak  of." 

"  ''I  know  you  are  a  brave  man,  but  I  was  a  young  man, 
and  you  ought  to  have  had  some  indulgence  for  me.  What 
had  you  to  reproach  the  king  with?  that  he  left  King 
Charles  II.  without  assistance?  let  us  say  further — that  he 
did  not  marry  Mademoiselle  de  Mancini?"  When  saying 
these  words  the  king  fixed  upon  the  musketeer  a  searching 
look. 

"Ah!  ah!"  thought  the  latter,  "he  is  doing  more  than 
remembering,  he  is  guessing.     The  devil!" 

"Your  sentence,"  continued  Louis,  "fell  upon  the  king 
and  fell  upon  the  man.  'But  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  that 
weakness,  for  you  considered  it  a  weakness?" — D'Artagnan 
made  no  reply — "you  reproached  me  also  with  regard  to 
monsieur,  the  defunct   cardinal.     Now,  Monsieur   le  Car- 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOXHE.  345 

dinal,  did  he  not  bring  me  up,  did  he  not  support  me — 
elevating  himself  and  supporting  himself  at  the  same  time, 
I  admit;  but  the  benefit  was  discharged.  As  an  ingrate  or 
an  egotist,  would  you,  then,  have  better  loved  me  or  served 
me?" 

"Sire!" 

"We  will  say  no  more  about  it,  monsieur;  it  would  only 
create  you  too  many  regrets  and  me  too  much  pain." 

D'Artagnan  was  not  convinced.  The  young  king,  in 
adopting  a  tone  of  hauteur  with  him,  did  not  forward  his 
purpose. 

"You  have  since  reflected?"  resumed  Louis. 
'Upon  what,  sire?"  asked  D'Artagnan  politely. 

"Why,  upon  all  that  I  have  said  to  you,  monsieur." 

"'Yes,  sire,  no  doubt " 

"And  you  have  only  waited  for  an  opportunity  of  retract- 
ing your  words?" 

"Sire!" 

"You  hesitate,  it  seems." 

"I  do  not  understand  what  your  majesty  did  me  the 
honor  to  say  to  me." 

Louis'  brow  became  cloudy. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  excuse  me,  sire;  my  understand- 
ing is  particularly  thick;  things  do  not  penetrate  it  without 
difficulty;  but  it  is  true,  when  once  they  get  in  they  remain 
there." 

"Yes,  yes;  you  appear  to  have  a  memory." 

"Almost  as  good  a  one  as  your  majesty's." 

"Then  give  me  quickly  one  solution.  My  time  is  valua- 
ble.    What  have  you  been  doing  since  your  discharge?" 

"Making  my  fortune,  sire." 

"The  expression  is  rude,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan." 

"Your  majesty  takes  it  in  bad  part,  certainly.  I  enter- 
tain nothing  but  the  profoundest  respect  for  the  king;  and 
if  I  have  been  impolite,  which  might  be  excused  by  my  long 
sojourn  in  camps  and  barracks,  your  majesty  is  too  much 
above  me  to  be  offended  at  a  word  innocently  escaped  from 
a  soldier." 

"In  fact,  I  know  that  you  have  performed  a  brilliant 
action  in  England,  monsieur.  I  only  regret  that  you  have 
broken  your  promise." 

"I!"   cried  D'Artagnan. 

"Doubtless.  You  engaged  your  word  not  to  serve  any 
other  prince  on  quitting  my  service.  Now,  it  was  for  King 
Charles  II.  that  you  undertook  the  marvelous  carrying  off 
of  Monsieur  Monk." 


346  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Pardon  me,  sire;  it  was  for  myself." 

"And  did  you  succeed?" 

"Like  the  captains  of  the  fifteenth  century,  coups  dt 
main  and  adventures." 

"What  do  you  call  succeeding — a  fortune?" 

"A  hundred  thousand  crowns,  sire,  which  I  possess — that 
is,  in  one  week  the  triple  of  all  I  ever  had  in  money  in  fifty 
years." 

"It  is  a  handsome  sum.  But  you  are  ambitious,  I  believe?" 

"I!  sire?  The  quarter  of  it  would  be  a  treasure;  and  I 
swear  to  you  I  have  no  thought  of  augmenting  it." 

"What!  do  you  contemplate  remaining  idle?" 
Yes   sire  " 

"To  quit  the  sword?" 

"That  is  done." 

"Impossible,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan!"  said  Louis  firmly. 

"But,  sire " 

"Well?" 

"What  for?" 

"Because  I  will  that  you  shall  not!"  said  the  young 
prince,  in  a  voice  so  stern  and  imperious  that  D'Artagnan 
evinced  surprise  and  even  uneasiness. 

"Will  your  majesty  allow  me  one  word  of  reply?"  said  he. 

"Speak." 

"I  formed  that  resolution  when  I  was  poor  and  destitute." 

"So  be  it.     Go  on." 

"Now,  when  by  my  industry  I  have  acquired  a  comforta- 
ble means  of  subsistence,  would  your  majesty  despoil  me 
of  my  liberty?  Your  majesty  would  condemn  me  to  the 
least,  when  I  have  gained  the  most." 

"Who  gave  you  permission,  monsieur,  to  fathom  my  de- 
signs, or  to  reckon  Avith  me?"  replied  Louis,  in  a  voice 
almost  angry;  "who  told  you  what  I  shall  do  or  what  you 
will  yourself  do?" 

"Sire,"  said  the  musketeer  quietly,  "as  far  as  I  see, 
freedom  is  not  the  order  of  the  conversation,  as  it  was  on 
the  day  we  came  to  an  explanation  at  Blois." 

"No,  monsieur;  everything  is  changed." 

"I  make  your  majesty  my  sincere  compliments  upon 
that,  but " 

"But  you  don't  believe  it?" 

"I  am  not  a  great  statesman,  and  yet  I  have  my  eye  upon 
affairs;  it  seldom  fails;  now.  I  do  not  see  exactly  as  your 
majesty  does,  sire.  The  reign  of  Mazarin  is  over,  but  that 
of  the  financiers  is   begun.     They  have  the  money;  your 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONtfE.  34? 

majesty  will  not  often  see  much  of  it.  To  live  under  the 
paw  of  these  hungry  wolves  is  hard  for  a  man  who  reck- 
oned upon  independence." 

At  this  moment  some  one  scratched  at  the  door  of  the 
cabinet;  the  king  raised  his  head  proudly.  "Your  pardon, 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  said  he;  "it  is  Monsieur  Colbert, 
who  comes  to  make  me  a  report.  Come  in,  Monsieur 
Colbert." 

D'Artagnan  drew  back.  Colbert  entered  with  papers  in 
his  hand,  and  went  up  to  the  king.  There  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  Gascon  did  not  lose  the  opportunity  of 
applying  his  keen,  quick  glance  to  the  new  figure  which 
presented  itself. 

"Is  the  inquiry  then  made?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"And  the  opinion  of  the  inquisitors?" 

"Is  that  the  accused  merit  confiscation  and  death." 

"Ah!  ah!"  said  the  king,  without  changing  countenance, 
and  casting  an  oblique  look  at  D'Artagnan.  "And  your 
own  opinion,  Monsieur  Colbert?"  said  he. 

Colbert  looked  at  D'Artagnan  in  his  turn.  That  impos- 
ing countenance  checked  the  words  upon  his  lips.  Louis 
perceived  this.  "Do  not  disturb  yourself,"  said  he;  "it  is 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan;  do  you  not  know  Monsieur  d'Artag- 
nan  again?" 

These  two  men  looked  at  each  other — D'Artagnan,  with 
his  eye  open  and  bright;  Colbert,  with  his  eye  half-closed 
and  dim.  The  frank  intrepidity  of  the  one  displeased  the 
other;  the  cautious  circumspection  of  the  financier  dis- 
pleased the  soldier.  "Ah!  ah!  this  is  the  gentleman  who 
made  that  brilliant  stroke  in  England,"  said  Colbert.  And 
he  bowed  slightly  to  D'Artagnan. 

"Ah!  ah!"  said  the  Gascon,  "this  is  the  gentleman  who 
clipped  off  the  lace  from  the  uniform  of  the  Swiss!  A 
praiseworthy  piece  of  economy." 

The  financier  thought  to  embarrass  the  musketeer;  but 
the  musketeer  ran  the  financier  right  through. 

"Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  resumed  the  king,  who  had  not 
remarked  all  the  shades  of  which  Mazarin  would  not  have 
missed  one,  "this  concerns  the  farmers  of  the  revenue  who 
have  robbed  me,  whom  I  am  hanging,  and  whose  death- 
warrants  I  am  about  to  sign." 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  starting. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Oh!  nothing,  sire.     This  is  no  business  of  mine." 


348  THE    VICOMTE    I)E   BRAGELONNE. 

The  king  had  already  taken  up  the  pen,  and  was  apply- 
ing it  to  the  paper.  "Sire,"  said  Colbert,  in  a  subdued 
voice,  "I  beg  to  warn  your  majesty  that  if  an  example  be 
necessary  that  example  may  find  some  difficulty  in  the 
execution." 

"What  do  you  say?"  said  Louis. 

"You  must  not  conceal  from  yourself,"  continued  Col- 
bert quietly,  "that  attacking  the  farmers-general  ia  attack- 
ing the  surintendance.  The  two  unfortunate  guilty  men 
in  question  aro  the  particular  friends  of  a  powerful  person- 
age, and  the  day  of  punishment,  which  otherwise  might  be 
stifled  in  the  Chatelet,  disturbances  will  arise  Avithout 
doubt." 

Louis  colored  and  turned  toAvard  D'Artagnan,  who  took 
a  slight  bite  at  his  mustache,  not  without  a  smile  of  pity 
for  the  financier,  as  likeAvise  for  the  king  AArho  had  to  listen 
to  him  so  long.  But  Louis  seized  the  pen,  and  with  a 
movement  so  rapid  that  his  hand  shook,  he  affixed  his  sig- 
nature at  the  bottom  of  the  tAvo  papers  presented  by  Colbert, 
then  looking  the  latter  in  the  face,  "Monsieur  Colbert," 
said  he,  "when  you  speak  to  me  of  affairs,  exclude  more 
frequently  the  Avord  difficulty  from  your  reasonings  and 
opinions;  as  to  the  Avord  impossibility,  neArer  pronounce  it." 

Colbert  bowed,  much  humiliated  at  having  undergone 
such  a  lesson  before  the  musketeer.  He  Avas  about  to  go 
out,  but,  jealous  to  repair  his  check,  "I  forgot  to  announce 
to  your  majesty,"  said  he,  "that  the  confiscations  amount 
to  the  sum  of  five  millions  of  livres." 

"That's  pretty!"  thought  D'Artagnan. 

"Which  makes  in  my  coffers?"  said  the  king. 

"Eighteen  millions  of  livres,  sire,"  replied  Colbert, 
bowing. 

"Mordioux!"  grumbled  D'Artagnan,  "that's  glorious!" 

"Monsieur  Colbert,"  added  the  king,  "you  will,  if  you 
please,  go  through  the  gallery  Avhere  Monsieur  Lyonne  is 
Avaiting,  and  tell  him  to  bring  hither  what  he  has  drawn  up 
— by  my  order." 

"Directly,  sire;  if  your  majesty  wants  me  no  more  this 
evening." 

"No,  monsieur;  adieu!"     And  Colbert  went  out. 

"Now,  let  us  return  to  our  affair,  Monsieur  dWrtagnan." 
said  the  king,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  "You  see  that, 
with  respect  to  money,  there  is  already  a  notable  change?" 

"Something  like  from  zero  to  eighteen  millions,"  replied 
the  musketeer  gayly.     "Ah!  that   was   what  your  majesty 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAOELONNE.  349 

wanted  the  day  King  Charles  II.  came  to  Blois\.  The  two 
states  would  not  have  been  imbroiled  to-day;  for  I  must 
say,  that  there  also  I  see  another  stumbling-block." 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,"  replied  Louis,  "you  are  un- 
just, monsieur;  for  if  Providence  had  made  me  able  to  give 
my  brother  the  million  that  day,  you  would  not  have  quitted 
my  service,  and,  consequently,  you  would  not  have  made 
your  fortune,  as  you  told  me  just  now  you  have  done.  But, 
in  addition  to  this,  I  have  had  another  piece  of  good  for- 
tune; and  my  difference  with  Great  Britain  need  not  alarm 
you." 

A  valet  de  chambre  interrupted  the  king  by  announcing 
M.  Lyonne.  "Come  in,  monsieur,"  said  the  king;  "you 
are  punctual;  that  is  like  a  good  servant.  Let  us  see  your 
letter  to  my  brother  Charles  II." 

D'Artagnan  pricked  up  his  ears.  "A  moment,  mon- 
sieur," said  Louis,  carelessly,  to  the  Gascon;  "I  must  ex- 
pedite to  London  my  consent  to  the  marriage  of  my  brother, 
Monsieur  le  Due  d'Anjou,  with  the  Princess  Henrietta 
Stuart." 

"He  is  knocking  me  about,  it  seems,"  murmured  D'Ar- 
tagnan, while  the  king  signed  the  letter,  and  dismissed  M. 
de  Lyonne;  "but,  ma  foi !  the  more  he  knocks  me  about  in 
this  manner,  the  better  I  shall  be  pleased." 

The  king  followed  M.  de  Lyonne  with  his  eye,  till  the 
door  was  closed  behind  him;  he  even  made  three  steps  as  if 
he  would  follow  the  minister;  but,  after  these  three  steps, 
stopping,  pausing,  and  coming  back  to  the  musketeer, 
"Now,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "let  us  hasten  to  terminate  our 
affair.  You  told  me  the  other  day,  at  Blois,  that  you  were 
not  rich?" 

"But  I  am  now,  sire." 

"Yes;  but  that  does  not  concern  me;  you  have  your  own 
money,  not  mine;  that  does  not  enter  into  my  account." 

"1  do  not  well  understand  what  your  majesty  means." 

"Then,  instead  of  leaving  you  to  draw  out  our  words, 
speak  spontaneously.  Should  you  be  satisfied  with  twenty 
thousand  livres  a  year  as  a  fixed  income?" 

"But,  sire,"  said  D'Artagnan,  opening  his  eyes  to  the 
utmost. 

"Would  you  be  satisfied  with  four  horses  furnished  and 
kept,  and  with  a  supplement  of  funds  such  as  you  should 
require,  according  to  ocoasions  and  needs,  or  would  you 
prefer  a  fixed  sum  which  would  be,  for  example,  forty  thou- 
sand livres?     Answer." 


350  THE  VICOMTfc    DE   BRAGELOtfNE. 

"Sire,  your  majesty " 

"Yes,  you  are  surprised;  that  is  natural,  and  I  expected 
it.  Answer  me,  come!  or  1  shall  think  you  have  no  longer 
that  rapidity  of  judgment  I  have  so  much  admired  in  you." 

"It  is  certain,  sire,  that  twenty  thousand  livres  a  year 
make  a  handsome  sum;  but " 

"No  buts!     Yes  or  no;  is  it  an  honorable  indemnity?" 

"Oh!  certes " 

"You  will  be  satisfied  with  it?  Well,  that  is  well.  It 
will  be  better  to  reckon  the  extra  expenses  separately;  you 
can  arrange  that  with  Colbert.  Now,  let  us  pass  to  some- 
thing more  important." 

"But,  sire,  I  told  your  majesty " 

"That  you  wanted  rest,  I  know  you  did;  only  I  replied 
that  I  would  not  allow  it — I  am  master,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"That  is  well.  You  were  formerly  in  the  way  of  becom- 
ing captain  of  the  musketeers?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"Well,  here  is  your  commission  signed.  I  placed  it  in 
this  drawer.  The  day  on  which  you  shall  return  from  a 
certain  expedition  which  I  have  to  confide  to  you,  on  that 
day  you  may  yourself  take  the  commission  from  the  drawer. " 
D'Artagnan  still  hesitated,  and  hung  down  his  head. 
"Come,  monsieur,"  said  the  king,  "one  would  believe,  to 
look  at  you,  that  you  did  not  know  that  at  the  court  of  the 
most  Christian  king,  the  captain-general  of  the  musketeers 
takes  precedence  of  the  marecbals  of  France." 

"Sire,  I  know  he  does." 

"Then  I  must  fancy  you  do  not  put  faith  in  my  word?" 

"Oh!  sire,  never — never  dream  of  such  a  thing." 

"I  have  wished  to  prove  to  you  that  you,  so  good  a  serv 
ant,  had  lost  a  good  master;  am  1  anything  like  the  master 
that  will  suit  you?" 

"I  begin  to  think  you  are,  sire." 

"Then,  monsieur,  you  will  resume  your  functions.  Your 
company  is  quite  disorganized  since  your  departure,  and 
the  men  go  about  drinking  and  rioting  in  the  cabarets, 
where  they  fight,  in  spite  of  my  edicts,  or  those  of  my 
father.     You  will  reorganize  the  service  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Yes,  sire." 

"You  will  not  again  quit  my  person." 

"Very  well,  sire." 

"You  will  march  with  me  to  the  army,  you  will  encamp 
round  my  tent." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  35. 

''Then,  sire,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "if  it  is  only  to  iirpose 
upon  me  a  service  like  that,  your  majesty  need  not  give  me 
twenty  thousand  livres  a  year.     I  shall  not  earn  them." 

"I  desire  that  you  shall  keep  open  house;  I  desire  that 
you  shall  keep  an  open  table;  I  desire  that  my  captain  of 
musketeers  shall  be  a  personage." 

"And  I,"  said  D'Artagnan  bluntly,  "I  do  not  like  easily 
found  money;  I  like  money  won.  Your  majesty  gives  me 
an  idle  trade,  which  the  first-comer  would  perform  for  four 
thousand  livres." 

Louis  XIV.  began  to  laugh.  "You  are  a  true  Gascon, 
Monsieur  d'Artagnan;  you  will  draw  my  heart's  secret  from 
me." 

"Bah!  has  your  majesty  a  secret,  then?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Well,  then,  I  accept  the  twenty  thousand  livres,  for  I 
will  keep  that  secret,  and  discretion  is  above  all  price,  in 
these  times.     Will  your  majesty  speak  now?" 

"You  will  get  booted,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  and  mount 
on  horseback." 

"Directly,  sire?" 

"Within  two  days." 

"That  is  well,  sire;  for  I  have  my  affairs  to  settle  before 
I  set  out;  particularly  if  it  is  likely  there  should  be  any 
blows  stirring." 

"That  may  happen." 

"We  can  receive  them.  But,  sire,  you  have  addressed 
yourself  to  the  avarice,  to  the  ambition;  you  have  addressed 
yourself  to  the  heart  of  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  but  you  have 
forgotten  one  thing." 

"What  is  that?" 

"You  have  said  nothing  to  his  vanity;  when  shall  I  be  a 
knight  of  the  king's  orders?" 

"Does  that  interest  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  sire.  My  friend  Athos  is  quite  covered  with 
orders,  and  that  dazzles  me." 

"You  shall  be  a  knight  of  my  order  a  month  after  you 
have  taken  your  commission  of  captain." 

"Ah!    ah!"   said    the    officer  thoughtfully,    "after  the 
expedition." 
Precisely." 

"Where  is  your  majesty  going  to  send  meP'° 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  Bretagne?'' 

"No,  sire." 

"Have  you  any  friends  there?" 


359  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"In  Bretagne?    No,  ma  foil" 

"So  much  the  better.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
fortifications?" 

"I  believe  I  do,  sire,"  said  D'Artagnan,  smiling. 

"That  is  to  say,  you  can  readily  distinguish  a  fortress 
from  a  simple  fortification,  such  as  is  allowed  to  chatelaines 
or  vassals?" 

"I  distinguish  a  fort  from  a  rampart  as  I  distinguish  a 
cuirass  from  a  raised  pie-crust,  sire.     Is  that  sufficient?" 

"Yes,  monsieur.     You  will  set  out,  then," 

"For  Bretagne?" 

"Yes." 

"Alone?' 

"Absolutely  alone.  That  is  to  say,  you  must  not  even 
take  a  lackey  with  you." 

"May  I  ask  your  majesty  for  what  reason?" 

"Because,  monsieur,  it  will  be  necessary  to  disguise  your- 
self sometimes  as  the  servant  of  a  good  family.  Your  face 
is  very  well  known  in  France,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan." 

"And  then,  sire?" 

"And  then  you  will  travel  slowly  through  Bretagne,  and 
will  examine  carefully  the  fortifications  of  that  country." 

"The  coasts?"  _ 

"Yes,  and  the  isles;  commencing  by  Belle-Isle-en-Mer." 

"Ah!  which  belongs  to  Monsieur  Fouquet?"  said  D'Ar- 
tagnan, in  a  serious  tone,  raising  his  intelligent  eve  to  Louis 
XIV. 

"I  fancy  you  are  right,  monsieur,  and  that  Belle-Isle  does 
belong  to  Monsieur  Fouquet,  in  fact." 

"Then  your  majesty  wishes  me  to  ascertain  if  Belle-Isle  is 
a  good  place?" 

"Yes." 

"If  the  fortifications  of  it  are  new  or  old?" 

"Precisely." 

"And  if  the  vassals  of  Monsieur  Fouquet  are  sufficiently 
numerous  to  form  a  garrison?" 

"That  is  what  I  want  to  know;  you  have  placed  your 
finger  on  the  question." 

''And  if  they  are  not  fortifying,  sire?" 

"You  will  travel  about  Bretagne,  listening  and  judging.'1 

"Then  I  am  a  king's  spy?"  said  D'Artagnan  bluntly; 
twisting  his  mustache. 

"No,  monsieur." 

"Your  pardon,  sire;  I  spy  on  your  majesty's  account." 

"You  go  on  a  discovery,  monsieur.     Would  you  march  ai 


THE   VICOMTE   DE    BRAGELONNE.  353 

the  head  of  your  musketeers,  with  your  sword  in  your  hand, 
to  ohserve  any  spot  whatever,  or  an  enemy's  position?" 

At  this  word  D'Artagnan  started. 

"Do  you,"  continued  the  king,  "imagine  yourself  to  be 
a  spy?" 

"No,  no,"  said  D'Artagnan,  but  pensively;  "the  thing 
changes  its  face  when  one  observes  an  enemy;  one  is  but  a 
soldier.  And  if  they  are  fortifying  Belle-Isle?"  added  he 
quickly. 

"You  will  take  an  exact  plan  of  the  fortifications," 

"Will  they  permit  me  to  enter?" 

"That  does  not  concern  me;  that  is  your  affair.  Did  you 
not  understand  that  I  reserved  for  you  a  supplement  of 
twenty  thousand  livres  per  annum,  if  you  wished  for  it?" 

"Yes,  sire;  but  if  they  are  not  fortifying?" 

"You  will  return  quietly,  without  fatiguing  your  horse." 

"Sire,  I  am  ready." 

"You  will  begin  to-morrow  by  going  to  Monsieur  le  Sur- 
intendant  to  take  the  first  quarter  of  the  pension  I  give 
you.     Do  you  know  Monsieur  Fouquet?" 

"Very  little,  sire;  but  I  beg  your  majesty  to  observe  that 
I  don't  think  it  very  urgent  that  I  should  know  him. 

"I  ask  your  pardon,  monsieur;  for  he  will  refuse  you  the 
money  I  wish  you  to  take;  and  it  is  that  refusal  I  look  for." 

"Ah!"  said  D'Artagnan.     "Next,  sire?" 

"The  money  being  refused,  you  will  go  and  seek  it  at 
Monsieur  Colbert's.     Apropos,  have  you  a  good  horse?" 

"An  excellent  one,  sire." 

"How  much  did  it  cost  you?" 

"A  hundred  and  fifty  pistoles." 

"I  will  buy  it  of  you.  Here  is  a  note  for  two  hundred 
pistoles." 

"But  I  want  my  horse  for  my  journey,  sire." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  and  you  take  mine  from  me." 

"Not  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  I  give  it  you.  Only,  as  it  is 
now  mine,  and  not  yours,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  spare  it." 

"Your  majesty  is  in  a  hurry,  then!" 

"A  great  hurry." 

"Then,  what  compels  me  to  wait  two  days?" 

"Reasons  known  to  myself." 

"That's  a  different  affair.  The  horse  may  make  up  the 
two  days  in  the  eight  he  has  to  do;  and  then  there  is  the 
post." 

"No,  no;  the  post  compromises,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan. 
Be  gone,  and  do  not  forget  you  are  mine." 


354  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

"Sire,  it  was  not  I  who  ever  forgot  it.  At  what  nour  to 
morrow  shall  I  take  my  leave  of  your  majesty?" 

"Where  do  you  lodge?" 
I  must  henceforward  lodge  at  the  Louvre. 
That  must  not  be  now;  keep  your  lodgings  in  the  city; 
i  will  pay  for  them.  As  to  your  departure,  it  must  take 
pla^e  at  night;  you  must  set  out  without  being  seen  by  any 
one,  or,  if  you  are  seen,  it  must  not  be  known  that  yor 
belong  to  me.     A  close  mouth,  monsieur." 

''Your  majesty  spoils  all  you  have  said  by  that  single 
word." 

"I  asked  you  where  you  lodged,  for  I  cannot  always  send 
to  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  la  Fere  to  seek  you." 

"I  lodge  with  Monsieur  Planchet,  a  grocer,  Rue  des 
Lombards,  at  the  sign  of  the  Pilon  d'Or." 

"Go  out  but  little,  show  yourself  still  less,  and  await  my 
orders." 

"And  yet,  sire,  I  must  go  for  the  money." 

"That  is  true;  but,  when  going  to  the  surintendance, 
where  so  many  people  are  constantly  going,  you  must 
mingle  with  the  crowd." 

"I  want  the  notes,  sire,  for  the  money." 

"Here  they  are." 

The  king  signed  them,  and  D'Artagnan  looked  on,  to 
assure  himself  of  the  regularity. 

"That  is  money,"  said  he,  "and  money  is  either  read  or 
counted. 

"Adieu,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,"  added  the  king.  "I 
think  you  have  perfectly  understood  me." 

"I!  I  understood  that  your  majesty  sends  me  to  Belle 
Isle-en-Mer,  that  is  all." 

"To  learn?" 

:'To  learn  how  Monsieur  Fouquet's  works  are  going  on: 
that  is  all." 

"Very  well;  I  admit  you  may  be  taken." 

"And  I  do  not  admit  it,"  replied  the  Gascon  boldly. 

"I  admit  that  you  may  be  killed,"  continued  the  king. 

"That  is  not  probable,  sire." 

"In  the  first  case,  you  must  not  speak;  in  the  second, 
Jiere  must  be  no  paper  found  upon  you  to  speak." 

D'Artagnan  shrugged  his  shoulders  without  ceremony, 
and  took  leave  of  the  king,  saying  to  himself: 

"The  English  shower  continues — let  us  remain  under  th» 
spout. " 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BKAGELONNE.  355 

CHAPTER   LIV.      . 

THE   HOUSES   OF   M.    FOITQUET. 

While  D'Artagnan  was  returning  to  Planchet's  house, 
his  head  aching  and  bewildered  with  all  that  had  happened 
to  him,  there  was  passing  a  scene  of  quite  a  different  char- 
acter, and  which,  nevertheless,  is  not  foreign  to  the  conver- 
sation our  musketeer  had  just  had  with  the  king;  only  this 
scene  took  place  out  of  Paris,  in  a  house  possessed  by  the 
surintendant  Fouquet  in  the  village  of  St.  Mande.  The 
minister  had  just  arrived  at  this  country-house,  followed  by 
his  principal  clerk,  who  carried  an  enormous  portfolio  full 
of  papers  to  be  examined,  and  others  waiting  for  signature. 
As  it  might  be  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  mas- 
ters had  dined;  supper  was  being  prepared  for  twenty 
subaltern  guests.  The  surintendant  did  not  stop;  on 
alighting  from  his  carriage,  he,  at  the  same  bound,  sprang 
through  the  doorway,  traversed  the  apartments  and  gained 
his  cabinet,  where  he  declared  he  would  shut  himself  up  to 
work,  commanding  that  he  should  not  be  disturbed  for  any- 
thing but  an  order  from  the  king.  As  soon  as  this  order 
was  given,  Fouquet  shut  himself  up,  and  two  footmen  were 
placed  as  sentinels  at  his  door.  Then  Fouquet  pushed  a 
bolt  which  displaced  a  panel  that  walled  up  the  entrance, 
and  prevented  everything  that  passed  in  this  apartment 
from  being  either  seen  or  heard.  But,  against  all  probabil- 
ity, it  was  only  for  the  sake  of  shutting  himself  up  that 
Fouquet  shut  himself  up  thus,  for  he  went  straight  to  a 
bureau,  seated  himself  at  it,  opened  the  portfolio,  and  began 
to  make  a  choice  in  the  enormous  mass  of  papers  it  con- 
tained. It  was  not  more  than  ten  minutes  after  he  had 
entered,  and  taken  all  the  precautions  we  have  described, 
when  the  repeated  noise  of  several  slight  equal  strokes 
struck  his  ear,  and  appeared  to  fix  all  his  attention.  Fou- 
quet raised  his  head,  turned  his  ear,  and  listened. 

The  little  strokes  continued.  Then  the  worker  arose 
with  a  slight  movement  of  impatience  and  walked  straight 
up  to  a  glass  behind  which  the  blows  were  struck  by  a  hand 
or  by  some  invisible  mechanism.  It  was  a  large  glass  let 
into  a  panel.  Three  other  glasses,  exactly  similar  to  it, 
completed  the  symmetry  of  the  apartment.  Nothing  dis- 
tinguished that  from  the  others.  Without  doubt,  these 
reiterated  little  strokes  were  a  signal,  for  at  the  moment 


35G  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BEAOELONNE. 

Fouquet  approached  the  glass,  listening,  the  same  noise 
was  renewed,  and  in  the  same  measure. 

''Oh!  oh!"  murmured  the  intendant,  with  surprise,  "who 
is  yonder?  I  did  not  expect  anybody  to-day."  And,  with- 
out doubt,  to  respond  to  that  signal,  he  pulled  a  gilded 
nail  in  that  same  glass,  and  shook  it  thrice.  Then,  return- 
ing to  his  place,  and  seating  himself  again,  "Ma  foil  let 
them  wait."  said  he.  And,  plunging  again  into  the  ocean 
of  papers  unrolled  before  him,  he  appeared  to  think  of 
nothing  any  longer  but  work. 

In  fact,  with  incredible  rapidity  and  marvelous  lucidity, 
Fouquet  deciphered  the  largest  papers  and  most  compli- 
cated writings,  correcting  them,  annotating  them  with  a 
pen  moved  as  if  by  a  fever,  and  the  work  melting  under  his 
hands,  signatures,  figures,  references,  became  multiplied  as 
if  ten  clerks — that  is  to  say,  a  hundred  fingers  and  ten 
brains — had  performed  the  duties,  instead  of  the  five  fingers 
and  single  brain  of  this  man.  From  time  to  time  only, 
Fouquet,  absorbed  by  his  work,  raised  his  head  to  cast  a 
furtive  glance  upon  a  clock  placed  before  him.  The  reason 
of  this  was,  Fouquet  set  himself  a  task,  and  when  this  task 
was  once  set,  in  one  hour's  work,  he,  by  himself,  did  what 
another  would  not  have  accomplished  in  a  day;  always  cer- 
tain, consequently,  provided  he  was  not  disturbed,  to  arrive 
at  the  end  in  the  time  his  devouring  activity  had  fixed. 
But  in  the  midst  of  his  ardent  labor,  the  dry  strokes  upon 
the  little  bell  placed  behind  the  glass  sounded  again  once 
more,  hasty,  and,  consequently,  more  urgent. 

"The  lady  appears  to  begin  to  be  impatient,"  said  Fou- 
quet. "Humph!  a  calm!  That  must  be  the  comtesse; 
but,  no,  the  comtesse  is  gone  to  Rambouillet  for  three  days. 
The  presidente,  then?  Oh!  no,  the  presidente  would  not 
assume  such  grand  airs;  she  would  ring  very  humbly,  then 
she  would  wait  my  good  pleasure.  The  clearest  of  all  is, 
that  I  may  not  know  who  it  can  be,  but  that  I  know  who 
it  cannot  be.  And  since  it  is  not  you,  marquise,  since  it 
cannot  be  you,  deuce  take  the  rest!"  And  he  went  on  with 
his  work,  in  spite  of  the  reiterated  appeals  of  the  bell.  At 
the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  however,  impatience  pre- 
vailed over  Fouquet  in  his  turn;  he  might  be  said  to  burn, 
rather  than  to  complete  the  rest  of  his  work;  he  thrust  his 
papers  into  his  portfolio,  and  giving  a  glance  at  the  mirror, 
while  the  taps  continued  to  be  faster  than  ever,  "Oh!  oh!" 
said  he,  "whence  comes  all  this  racket?  What  has  hap- 
pened, and  who  can  the  Ariadne  be  who  expects  me  so  im- 
patiently?   Letu&|ef 


THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  357 

He  then  applied  the  tip  of  his  finger  to  the  nail  parallel 
to  the  one  he  had  drawn.  Immediately  the  glass  moved 
like  the  fold  of  a  door  and  discovered  a  secret  closet,  rather 
deep,  in  which  the  surintendant  disappeared  as  if  going 
into  a  vast  box.  When  there,  he  touched  another  spring, 
which  opened,  not  a  board,  but  a  block  of  the  wall,  and  he 
went  out  by  that  opening,  leaving  the  door  to  shut  of  itself. 
Then  Fouquet  descended  about  a  score  of  steps  which  sank, 
winding,  underground,  and  came  to  a  long,  subterranean 
passage  lighted  by  imperceptible  loopholes.  The  walls  of 
this  vault  were  covered  with  slabs  or  tiles,  and  the  floor 
with  carpeting.  This  passage  was  under"  the  street  itself, 
which  separated  Fouquet's  house  from  the  Park  of  Vincen- 
nes.  At  the  end  of  the  passage  ascended  a  winding  stair- 
case parallel  with  that  by  which  Fouquet  had  entered.  He 
mounted  these  other  stairs,  entered  by  means  of  a  spring 
placed  in  a  eloset  similar  to  that  in  his  cabinet,  and  from 
this  closet  into  a  chamber  perfectly  empty,  although  fur- 
nished with  the  utmost  elegance.  As  soon  as  he  entered 
he  examined  carefully  whether  the  glass  closed  without 
leaving  any  trace;  and  doubtless,  satisfied  with  his  observa- 
tion, he  opened  by  means  of  a  small  gold  key  the  triple 
fastenings  of  a  door  in  front  of  him.  This  time  the  door 
opened  upon  a  handsome  cabinet,  sumptuously  furnished, 
in  which  was  seated  upon  cushions  a  lady  of  surpassing 
beauty,  who  at  the  sound  of  the  lock  sprang  toward 
Fouquet. 

"Ah,  good  heavens!"  cried  the  latter,  starting  back  with 
astonishment.  "Madame  la  Marquise  de  Belliere,  you 
here?" 
"Yes,"  murmured  la  marquise.  "Yes;  it  is  I,  monsieur." 
"Marquise,  dear  marquise!"  added  Fouquet,  ready  to 
prostrate  himself.  "Ah,  my  God!  how  did  you  come  here? 
And  I  to  keep  you  waiting!" 

"A  long  time,  monsieur;  yes,  a  very  long  time." 
'I  am  happy  in  thinking  this  waiting  has  appeared  long 
to  you,  marquise!" 

"Oh!  an  eternity,  monsieur;  oh!  I  rang  more  than  twenty 
times.     Did  you  not  hear  me?" 

"Marquise,  you  are  pale,  you  tremble." 

"Did  you  not  hear,  then,  that  you  were  summoned?" 

"Oh,  yes;  I  heard  plainly  enough,  madame;  but  I  could 

not  come.     After  your  rigor  and  your  refusal,  how  could  I 

dream  it  was  you?     If  I  could  have  had  any  suspicion  of 

the  happiness  that  awaited  me,   believe  me,   madame.,  J 


358  THE   YICOMTE   DE   BRARELOXXE. 

would  have  quitted  everything  to  fall  at  your  feet,  as  1  da 
at  this  moment." 

"Are  we  quite  alone,  monsieur?"  asked  the  marquise, 
looking  round  the  room, 

"Oh,  yes,  madame,  I  can  assure  you  of  that." 

"'Really?"  said  the  marquise,  in  a  melancholy  tone. 

"You  sigh,"  said  Fouquet. 

"What  mysteries!  what  precautions!"  said  the  marquise, 
with  a  slight  bitterness  of  expression;  "and  how  evident  it 
is  that  you  fear  the  least  suspicion  of  your  amours  to 
escape." 

"Would  you  prefer  their  being  made  public?" 

"Oh,  no;  you  act  like  a  delicate  man,"  said  the  marquise, 
smiling. 

"Come,  dear  marquise,  punish  me  not  with  reproaches, 
I  implore  you." 

"Keproaches!     Have  I  a  right  to  make  you  any?" 

"No,  unfortunately,  no;  but  tell  me,  you,  who  during  i 
year  I  have  loved  without  return  or  hope " 

"You  are  mistaken — without  hope,  it  is  true,  but  not 
without  return." 

"What!  for  me,  to  my  love?  there  is  but  one  proof,  and 
that  proof  I  still  want." 

"I  am  come  to  bring  it  to  you,  monsieur." 

Fouquet  wished  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms,  but  she  disen- 
gaged herself  with  a  gesture. 

"You  persist  in  deceiving  yourself,  monsieur,  and  never 
will  accept  of  me  the  only  thing  I  am  willing  to  give  you — 
devotion." 

"Ah,  then,  you  do  not  love  me?  Devotion  is  but  a  vir- 
tue, love  is  a  passion." 

"Listen  to  me,  I  implore  you;  I  should  not  have  come 
hither  without  a  serious  motive;  you  are  well  assured  of 
that,  are  you  not?" 

"The  motive  is  of  very  little  consequence,  so  that  yo  . 
are  but  here — so  that  I  see  you — so  that  I  speak  to  you!" 

"You  are  right;  the  principal  thing  is  that  I  am  here 
without  any  one  having  seen  me,  and  that  I  can  speak  to 
you." 

Fouquet  sank  on  his  knees  before  her.  "Speak,  speak, 
madame!"  said  he.     "I  listen  to  you." 

The  marquise  looked  at  Fouquet  on  his  knees  at  her  feet, 
and  there  was  in  the  looks  of  the  woman  a  strange  mixture 
of  love  and  melancholy. 

"Oh!"  at  length  murmured  she,  "would  tliat  J  were  she 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  3^3 

who  has  the  right  of  seeing  you  every  minute,  of  speaking 
to  you  every  instant!  would  A,hat  I  were  she  who  might 
watch  over  you,  she  who  would  have  no  need  of  mysterious 
springs  to  summon  and  cause  to  appear,  like  a  sylph,  the 
man  she  loves,  to  look  at  him  for  an  hour,  and  then  see 
him  disappear  in  the  darkness  of  a  mystery,  still  more 
strange  at  his  going  out  than  it  had  heen  at  his  coming  in. 
Oh!  that  would  be  to  be  a  happy  woman!" 

"Do  you  happen,  marquise/'  said  Fouquet,  smiling,  "to 
fee  speaking  of  my  wife?" 

"Yes,  certainly,  of  her  I  spoke." 

"Well,  you  need  not  envy  her  lot,  marquise;  of  all  the 
women  with  whom  I  am  in  relation,  Madame  Fouquet  is 
the  one  I  see  the  least  of,  and  who  has  the  least  intercourse 
with  me." 

"At  least,  monsieur,  she  is  not  reduced  to  place,  as  I 
have  done,  her  hand  upon  the  ornament  of  a  glass  to  call 
you  to  her;  at  least  you  do  not  reply  to  her  by  the  mys- 
terious, frightful  sound  of  a  bell,  the  spring  of  which  comes 
from  I  don't  know  where;  at  least  you  have  not  forbidden 
her  to  endeavor  to  discover  the  secret  of  these  communica- 
tions under  pain  of  breaking  off  forever  your  connections 
with  her,  as  you  have  forbidden  all  who  have  come  here 
before  me,  and  all  who  shall  come  after  me." 

"Dear  marquise,  how  unjust  you  are,  and  how  little  do 
you  know  what  you  are  doing  in  thus  exclaiming  against 
mystery;  it  is  with  mystery  alone  we  can  love  without 
trouble;  it  is  with  love  without  trouble  alone  that  we  can 
be  happy.  But  let  us  return  to  ourselves,  to  that  devotion 
of  which  you  were  speaking,  or,  rather,  let  me  labor  under 
a  pleasing  delusion,  and  believe  that  this  devotion  is  love." 

"Just  now,"  repeated  the  marquise,  passing  over  her 
eyes  a  hand  that  might  have  been  a  model  for  the  graceful 
contours  of  antiquity — "just  now  I  was  prepared  to  speak, 
my  ideas  were  clear,  bold,  now  I  am  quite  confused,  quite 
troubled;  I  fear  I  bring  you  bad  news." 

"If  it  is  to  that  bad  news  I  owe  your  presence,  marquise, 
welcome  be  that  bad  news;  or,  rather,  marquise,  since  you 
allow  that  I  am  not  quite  indifferent  to  you,  let  me  heal 
nothing  of  the  bad  news,  but  speak  of  yourself." 

"No,  no;  on  the  contrary,  demand  it  of  me;  require  ma 
to  tell  it  to  you  instantly,  and  not  to  allow  myself  to  be 
turned  aside  by  any  feeling  whatever.  Fouquet,  my  friend, 
it  is  of  immense  importance." 

"You  astonish  me,  marquise;  I  will  even  say  you  almost 


360  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BEAOELOXNE. 

frighten  me.  You,  so  serious,  so  collected;  you  who  know 
the  world  we  live  in  so  well.     Is  it,  then,  important?" 

"Oh,  very  important!" 

"In  the  first  place,  how  did  you  come  here?"- 

"You  shall  know  that  presently;  but,  first,  to  something 
of  more  consequence." 

"Speak,  marquise,  speak!  I  implore  you,  have  pity  on 
my  impatience." 

"Do  you  know  that  Colbert  is  made  intendant  of  the 
finances?" 

"Bah!     Colbert,  little  Colbert?" 

"Yes,  Colbert,  little  Colbert." 

"Mazarin's  factotum?" 

"The  same." 

"Well,  what  do  you  see  so  terrific  in  that,  dear  marquise? 
Little  Colbert  is  intendant;  that  is  astonishing,  I  confess, 
but  is  not  terrific." 

"Do  you  think  the  king  has  given,  without  a  pressing 
motive,  such  a  place  to  one  you  call  a  little  cuistre?" 

"In  the  first  place,  is  it  positively  true  that  the  king  has 
given  it  to  him?" 

"It  is  so  said." 

"Ay,  but  who  says  so?" 

"Everybody." 

"Everybody?  that  is  nobody;  mention  some  one  likely  to 
be  well  informed  who  says  so." 

"Madame  Vanel." 

"Ah!  now  you  begin  to  frighten  me  in  earnest,"  said 
Fouquet,  laughing;  "if  any  one  is  well  informed,  or  ought 
to  be  well  informed,  it  is  the  person  you  name." 

"Do  not  speak  ill  of  poor  Marguerite,  Monsieur  Fouquet, 
for  she  still  loves  you." 

"Bah!  indeed?  That  is  scarcely  credible.  I  thought 
little  Colbert,  as  you  said  just  now,  had  passed  over  that 
love,  and  left  the  impression  upon  it  of  a  spot  of  ink  or  a 
stain  of  grease." 

"Fouquet!  Fouquet!  Is  this  the  way  you  always  are 
for  the  poor  women  you  desert?" 

"Why,  you  surely  are  not  going  to  undertake  the  defense 
of  Madame  Vanel?" 

''Yes,  I  will  undertake  it;  for,  I  repeat,  she  loves  you 
still,  and  the  proof  is  she  saves  you." 

"But  your  interposition,  marquise;  that  is  very  cunning 
on  her  part.  No  angel  could  be  more  agreeable  to  me.  or 
could  lead  me  more  certainly  to  salvation.  But,  let  me 
ask  you,  do  you  know  Marguerite?" 


THE   Y100MTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  361 

"She  was  my  convent  friend." 

"And  you  say  that  she  has  informed  you  that  Monsieur 
vJolbert  was  named  intendant?" 

"Yes,  she  did." 

"Well,  enlighten  me,  marquise;  granted  Monsieur  Col- 
bert is  intendant — so  be  it — in  what  can  an  intendant,  that 
is  to  say,  my  subordinate,  my  clerk,  give  me  umbrage  or 
injure  me,  even  were  he  Monsieur  Colbert?" 

"You  do  not  reflect,  monsieur,  apparently,"  replied  the 
marquise. 

"Upon  what?" 

"This:  that  Monsieur  Colbert  hates  you." 

"Hates  me!"  cried  Fouquet.  "Good  heavens!  marquise, 
whence  do  you  come?  where  can  you  live?  Hates  me 
why,  all  the  world  hates  me,  he  as  others  do." 

"He  more  than  others." 

"More  than  others?    Let  him." 

"He  is  ambitious." 

"Who  is  not,  marquise?" 

"Yes,  but  with  him  ambition  has  no  bounds." 

"I  am  quite  aware  of  that,  since  he  made  it  a  point  to 
succeed  me  with  Madame  Vanel." 

"And  obtained  his  end;  look  to  that." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  he  has  the  presumption  to  hope  to 
pass  from  intendant  to  surintendant?" 

"Have  you  not  yourself  already  had  the  same  fear?" 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  Fouquet;  "to  succeed  with  Madame 
Vanel  is  one  thing,  to  succeed  me  with  the  king  is  another. 
France  is  not  to  be  purchased  so  easily  as  the  wife  of  a 
tnaitre  des  comtes." 

"Eh,  monsieur,  everything  is  to  be  bought;  if  not  by 
gold,  by  intrigue." 

"Nobody  knows  to  the  contrary  better  than  you,  ma- 
dame,  you  to  whom  I  have  offered  millions." 

"Instead  of  millions,  Fouquet,  you  should  have  offered 
me  a  true,  only,  and  boundless  love;  I  might  have  accepted 
that.  So,  you  see,  still,  everything  is  to  be  bought,  if  not 
in  one  way,  by  another." 

"So  Colbert,  in  your  opinion,  is  in  a  fair  way  of  bargain- 
ing for  my  place  of  surintendant.  Make  yourself  easy  on 
that  head,  my  dear  marquise,  he  is  not  yet  rich  enough  to 
purchase  it." 

"But  if  he  should  rob  you  of  it?" 

"Ah!  that  is  another  thing.  Unfortunately,  before  he 
can  reach  me,  that  is  to  say,  the  body  of  the  place,  he  must 


302  THE  YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

destroy,  must  make  a  breach  in  the  advanced  works,  and  1 
am  devilishly  well  fortified,  marquise." 

"What  you  call  your  advanced  works  are  your  creatures, 
are  they  not — \our  friends?" 

"Exactly  so." 

"And  is  Monsieur  d'Eymeris  one  of  your  creatures?" 

"Yes,  he  is." 

"Is  Monsieur  Lyodot  one  of  your  friends?" 

"Certainly." 

"Monsieur  de  Vanin?" 

"Monsieur  de  Vanin!  Ah!  they  may  do  what  tney  uko 
with  him,  but " 

"But " 

"But  the^  must  not  touch  the  others?" 

"Well,  if  you  are  anxious  they  should  not  touch  Mes- 
sieurs d'Evmeris  and  Lyodot,  it  is  time  to  look  about  you." 

"Who  threatens  them?" 

"Will  you  listen  to  me  now?" 

"Attentively,  marquise." 

"Without  interrupting  me?" 

"Speak."_ 

"Well,  this  morning  Marguerite  sent  for  me." 

"And  what  did  she  want  with  you?" 

"  '1  dare  not  see  Monsieur  Fouquet  myself,'  said  she." 

"Bah!  why  should  she  think  I  would  reproach  her?  Poor 
woman,  she  vastly  deceives  herself." 

"  'See  him  yourself/  said  she,  'and  tell  him  to  beware  of 
Monsieur  Colbert.' " 

"What!  she  warned  me  to  beware  of  her  lover?" 

"I  have  told  you  she  still  loves  you." 

"Go  on,  marquise." 

"  'Monsieur  Colbert,'  she  added,  'came  to  me  two  hours 
ago,  to  inform  me  he  was  appointed  intendant.'  " 

"I  ha\e  already  told  you,  marquise,  that  Monsieur  Col- 
bert would  only  be  the  more  in  my  power  for  that." 

"Yes,  but  that  is  not  all;  Marguerite  is  intimate,  as  you 
know,  with  Madame  d'Eymeris  and  Madame  Lyodot." 

"I  know  she  is." 

"Well,  Monsieur  Colbert  put  many  questions  to  her  rela« 
tive  to  the  fortunes  of  those  two  gentlemen,  and  as  to  the 
devotion  they  had  for  you." 

"Oh,  as  to  those  two,  I  can  answer  for  them*,  they  must 
be  killed  before  they  can  cease  to  be  mine." 

"Then,  as  Madame  Vanel  was  obliged  to  quit  Monsieur 
Colbert  for  an  instant  to  receive  a  visitor,  and  as  Monsieur 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE,  363 

Colbert  is  industrious,  scarcely  was  the  new  intendant  left 
alone  before  he  took  a  pencil  from  his  pocket,  and,  as  thee 
was  paper  on  the  table,  began  to  make  pencil  notes." 

"Notes  concerning  D'Eymeris  and  Lyodot?" 

"Exactly." 

"I  should  like  to  know  what  those  notes  were  about  ' 

"And  that  is  just  what  I  have  brought  you." 

"Madame  Vanel  has  taken  Colbert's  notes  and  sent  trftm 
to  me?" 

"No;  but  by  a  chance  which  resembles  a  miracle  she  has 
a  duplicate  of  those  notes." 

"How  could  she  get  that?" 

"Listen;  I  told  you  that  Colbert  found  some  paper  on 
the  table." 

"Yes." 

"That  he  had  taken  a  pencil  from  his  pocket." 

"Yes." 

"And  had  written  upon  that  paper." 

"Yes." 

"Well,  this  pencil  was  a  lead-pencil,  consequently  hard; 
so  it  marked  in  black  upon  the  first  sheet,  and  in  white 
upon  the  second." 

"Go  on." 

"Colbert,  when  tearing  off  the  first  sheet,  took  no  notice 
of  the  second." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  on  the  second  was  to  be  read  what  had  been  writ- 
ten on  the  first;  Madame  Vanel  read  it,  and  sent  for  me." 

"Ay,  ay." 

"Then,  when  she  was  assured  I  was  your  devoted  friend, 
she  gave  me  the  paper,  and  told  me  the  secret  of  that 
house." 

"And  this  paper?"  said  Fouquet,  in  some  degree  of 
agitation. 

"Here  it  is,  monsieur — read  it/'  said  the  marquise. 

Fouquet  read: 

"Names  of  the  farmers  of  the  revenue  to  be  condemned 
by  the  Chamber  of  Justice:  D'Eymeris,  friend  of  M.  F.; 
Lyodot,  friend  of  M.  F.;  De  Vanin,  indif." 

"D'Eymeris  and  Lyodot!"  cried  Fouquet,  reading  the 
paper  eagerly  again. 

"Friends  of  M.  F./'  pointed  the  marquise  with  hei 
finger. 


364  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXNE. 

"But  what  is  the  meaning  of  these  words:  "To  be  con- 
demned by  the  Chamber  of  Justice?'  " 

"Dame!"  said  the  marquise,  "that  is  clear  enough,  1 
think.  Besides,  that  is  not  all.  Read  on,  read  on;"  and 
Fouquet  continued: 

"The  first  two  to  death,  the  third  to  be  dismissed;  with 
Messieurs  d5Hautemont  and  De  la  Valette,  who  will  only 
have  their  property  confiscated." 

"Great  God!"  cried  Fouquet,  "to  death,  to  death! 
Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris.  But  even  if  the  Chamber  of.  Jus- 
tice should  condemn  them  to  death,  the  king  will  never 
ratify  their  condemnation,  and  they  cannot  be  executed 
without  the  king's  signature." 

"The  king  has  made  Monsieur  ^Colbert  intendant." 

"Oh!"  cried  Fouquet,  as  if  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
yawning  abyss  beneath  his  feet,  "impossible!  impossible! 
But  who  passed  a  pencil  over  the  marks  made  by  Colbert?" 

"I  did.     1  was  afraid  the  first  would  be  effaced," 

"Oh!  I  will  know  all." 

"You  will  know  nothing,  monsieur;  you  despise  your 
enemy  too  much  for  that." 

"Pardon  me.  my  diar  marquise;  excuse  me;  yes,  Mon- 
sieur Colbert  is  my  enemy,  1  believe  him  to  be  so;  yes,  Mon- 
sieur Colbert  is  a  man  to  be  dreaded,  1  admit.  But  I — I 
have  time,  and  as  you  are  here,  as  you  have  assured  me  of 
your  devotion,  as  you  have  allowed  me  to  hope  for  your 
love,  as  we  are  alone " 

"I  came  here  to  save  you,  Monsieur  Fouquet,  and  not  to 
ruin  myself,"  said  the  marquise,  rising;  "therefore  beware!'' 

"Marquise,  in  truth  you  terrify  yourself  too  much,  at 
least,  unless  this  terror  is  but  a  pretext " 

"He  has  a  deep  heart,  that  Monsieur  Colbert;  bewared 

Fouquet,  in  his  turn,  drew  himself  up. 

"And  I?"  asked  he. 

"And  you,  you  have  only  a  noble  heart.     Beware^  be- 


ware 


r» 


"So?" 

"I  have  done  what  1  ought,  my  friend,  at  the  risk  of  my 
reputation.     Adieu." 

"Not  adieu,  au  revoir." 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  marquise,  giving  her  hand  to  bouquet 
to  kiss,  and  walking  toward  the  door  wi^h  so  firm  a  step 
that  he  did  not  dare  to  bar  her  passage.     As  to  Fouquet, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  365 

i  he  retook,  with  his  head  hanging  down  and  a  cloud  over 
ibis  brow,  the  path  of  the  subterranean  passage  along  which 
"ran  the  metal  wires  that  communicated  from  one  house  to 

the  other,  transmitting,   through  two  glasses,  the   wishes 

and  signals  of  two  correspondents. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

THE   ABBE   FOUQUET. 

Fouquet  hastened  back  to  his  apartment  by  the  subter- 
ranean  passage,  and  immediately  closed  the  mirror  with  the 
spring.  He  was  scarcely  in  his  closet  when  he  heard  some 
one  knocking  violently  at  the  door,  and  a  well-known  voice 
crying: 

"Open  the  door,  monseigneur,  I  entreat  you,  open  the 
door!" 

Fouquet  quickly  restored  a  little  order  to  everything 
which  might  reveal  either  his  absence  or  his  agitation;  he 
spread  his  papers  over  the  desk,  took  up  a  pen,  and,  to  gain 
time,  said,  through  the  closed  door: 

"Who  are  you?" 

"What,  monseigneur,  do  you  not  know  me?"  replied  the 
Voice. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Fouquet  to  himself,  "yes,  my  friend,  I 
know  you  well  enough."  And  then,  aloud:  "Is  it  not 
Gourville?" 

"Why,  yes,  monseigneur." 

Fouquet  arose,  cast  a  last  look  at  one  of  his  glasses,  went 
to  the  door,  pushed  the  bolt,  and  Gourville  entered. 

"Ah,  monseigneur!  monseigneur!"  cried  he,  "what 
cruelty!" 

"In  what?" 

"I  have  been  a  quarter  of  an  hour  imploring  you  to  open 
the  door,  and  you  would  not  even  answer  me." 

"Once  for  all,  you  know  that  I  will  not  be  disturbed  when 
I  am  busy.  Now,  although  I  might  make  you  an  excep- 
tion, Gourville,  I  insist  upon  my  orders  being  respected  by 
others." 

"Monseigneur,  at  this  moment,  orders,  doors,  bolts,  locks, 
and  walls,  I  could  have  broken,  overthrown,  and  split  them 
all!" 

"Ah!  ah!  it  relates  to  some  great  event,  then?"  asked 
Fouquet. 


366  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Oh!  I  assure  you  it  does,  monseigneur,"  replied  Gour- 
ville. 

"And  what  is  this  event?"  said  Fouquet,  a  little  troubled 
by  the  evident  agitation  of  his  most  intimate  confidant. 

"There  is  a  secret  chamber  of  justice  instituted,  mon- 
seigneur." 

"I  know  there  is;  but  do  the  members  meet,  Gourville?" 

"They  not  only  meet,  but  they  have  passed  a  sentence, 
monseigneur." 

"A  sentence?"  said  the  surintendant,  with  a  shudder  and 
pallor  he  could  not  conceal.  "A  sentence!  and  against 
whom?" 

"Against  two  of  your  friends." 

"Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris,  do  you  mean?  But  what  sort 
cf  a  sentence?" 

"Sentence  of  death." 

"Passed?  Oh!  you  must  be  mistaken,  Gourville;  that  is 
impossible." 

"Here  is  a  copy  of  the  sentence  which  the  king  is  to  sign 
to-day,  if  he  has  not  already  signed  it." 

Fouquet  seized  the  paper  eagerly,  read  it,  and  returned 
it  to  Gourville.     "The  king  will  never  sign  that,"  said  he. 

Gourville  shook  his  head. 

"Monseigneur,  Monsieur  Colbert  is  a  bold  councilor;  do- 
not  trust  to  that." 

"Monsieur  Colbert  again!"  cried  Fouquet.  "How  is  it 
that  that  name  rises  upon  all  occasions  to  torment  my  fears 
during  the  last  two  or  three  days?  You  make  so  trifling  a 
subject  of  too  much  importance,  Gourville.  Let  Monsieur 
Colbert  appear,  I  will  face  him;  let  him  raise  his  head,  and 
I  will  crush  him;  but,  you  understand,  there  must  be  an 
asperity  upon  which  my  look  may  fall,  there  must  be  a  sur- 
face upon  which  my  feet  may  be  placed." 

"Patience,  monseigneur;  for  you  do  not  know  what  Col» 
bert  is — study  him  quickly;  it  is  with  this  dark  financier  ai 
it  is  with  meteors,  which  the  eye  never  sees  completely  be- 
fore their  disastrous  invasion;  when  we  feel  them  we  are 
dead." 

"Oh!  Gourville,  that  is  going  too  far,"  replied  Fouquet, 
smiling;  "allow  me,  my  friend,  not  to  be  so  easily  frightened ; 
Monsieur  Colbert  a  meteor!  Corbleu !  we  confront  the 
meteor.  Let  us  see  acts,  and  not  words.  What  has  he 
done?" 

''He  has  ordered  two  gibbets  of  the  executioner  of  Paris/ 
answered  Gourville. 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONtfE."  367 

Fouquet  raised  his  head,  aud  a  flash  seemed  to.  strike  his 
eyes. 

"Are  you  sure  of  what  you  say?"  cried  he. 

"Here  is  the  proof,  monseigneur." 

And  Gourville  held  out  to  the  surintendant  a  note  com- 
municated by  one  of  the  secretaries  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
who  was  one  of  Fouquet's  creatures. 

"Yes,  that  is  true,"  murmured  the  minister;  "the  scaf- 
fold may  be  prepared,  but  the  king  has  not  signed;  Gour- 
ville, the  king  will  not  sign." 

"I  will  soon  know,"  said  Gourville. 

"How?" 

"If  the  king  has  signed,  the  gibbets  will  be  sent  this 
evening  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  in  order  to  be  got  up  and 
ready  by  to-morrow  morning." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  cried  the  surintendant,  once  again;  "you 
are  all  deceived,  and  deceive  me  in  my  turn.  Lyodot  came 
to  see  me  only  the  day  before  yesterday;  only  three  days 
ago  I  received  a  present  of  some  Syracuse  wine  from  poor 
D'Eymeris." 

"What  does  that  prove?"  replied  Gourville,  "except  that 
the  chamber  of  justice  has  been  secretly  assembled,  has 
deliberated  in  the  absence  of  the  accused,  and  that  the 
whole  proceeding  was  complete  when  they  were  arrested." 

"What!  are  they,  then,  arrested?" 

"No  doubt  they  are." 

"But  where,  when,  how  have  they  been  arrested?" 

"Lyodot,  yesterday  at  daybreak;  D'Eymeris,  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday,  in  the  evening,  as  he  was  returning  from 
the  house  of  his  mistress;  their  disappearance  had  disturbed 
nobody;  but  at  length  Monsieur  Colbert  all  at  once  raised 
the  mask,  and  caused  the  affair  to  be  published;  it  is  being 
cried  by  sound  of  trumpet,  at  this  moment,  in  Paris,  and, 
in  truth,  monseigneur,  there  is  scarcely  anybody  but  your- 
self ignorant  of  the  event." 

Fouquet  began  to  walk  about  his  chamber  with  an  uneasi- 
ness that  became  more  and  more  serious. 

"What  do  you  decide  upon,  monseigneur?"  said  Gour- 
ville. 

"If  it  really  were  as  you  say,  I  would  go  to  the  king," 
cried  Fouquet.  "But  as  I  go  to  the  Louvre,  I  will  pass  by 
the  Hotel  de  Ville.     We  shall  see  if  the  sentence  is  signed." 

"Incredulity,  thou  art  the  pest  of  all  great  minds!"  said 
Gourville,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"Gourville!" 


t 

368  THE  VICOMTE  DE   BRAGET.ONNE. 

"Yes,"  continued  he,  "and,  incredulity,  thou  ruineft 
them,  as  contagion  destroys  the  most  robust  health;  that  is 
to  say,  in  an  instant." 

"Let  us  go,"  cried  Fouquet;  "desire  the  door  to  be 
opened,  Gourville." 

"Be  cautious,"  said  the  latter,  the  "Abbe  de  Fouquet  is 
there." 

"Ah!  my  brother,"  replied  Fouquet,  in  a  tone  of  annoy 
ance;  "he  is  there,  is  he?  he  knows  all  the  ill  news,  then, 
and  is  rejoiced  to  bring  it  to  me,  as  usual.  The  devil!  it 
my  brother  is  there,  my  affairs  are  bad,  Gourville.  Why 
did  you  not  tell  me  that  sooner;  I  should  have  been  the 
more  readily  convinced." 

"Monseigneur  calumniates  him,"  said  Gourville,  laugh- 
ing, "if  he  is  come,  it  is  not  with  a  bad  intention." 

"What!  do  you  excuse  him?"  cried  Fouquet;  "a  fellow 
without  a  heart,  without  ideas — a  devourer  of  wealth?" 

"He  knows  you  are  rich." 

"And  would  ruin  me." 

"No;  but  he  would  like  to  have  your  purse.     That  is  all. " 

"Enough!  enough!  A  hundred  thousand  crowns  per 
month,  during  two  years.  Corhleu  I  it  is  that  I  pay,  Gour- 
ville, and  I  know  my  figures."  Gourville  laughed  in  a 
silent,  sly  manner.  "Yes,  yes,  you  mean  to  say  it  is  the 
king  pays,"  says  the  surintendant.  "Ah,  Gourville,  that 
is  a  vile  joke;  this  is  not  the  place." 

"Monseigneur,  do  not  be  angry." 

"Well,  then,  send  away  the  Abbe  Fouquet;  I  have  not  a 
sou."  Gourville  made  a  step  toward  the  door.  "He  has 
been  a  month  without  seeing  me,"  continued  Fouquet,* 
"why  could  he  not  be  two  months?" 

"Because  he  repents  of  living  in  bad  company,"  said 
Gourville,  "and  prefers  you  to  all  his  bandits." 

"Thanks  for  the  preference.  You  make  a  strange  advo- 
cate, Gourville,  to-day — the  advocat3  of  the  Abbe  Fouquet."' 

"Eh!  but  everything  and  every  man  has  a  good  side — the 
useful  side,  monseigneur." 

"The  bandits  whom  the  abbe  keeps  in  pay  and  drink  have 
their  useful  side,  have  they?     Prove  that,  if  you  please." 

"Let  the  circumstances  arise,  monseigneur,  and  you  will 
be  very  glad  to  have  these  bandits  under  your  hand." 

"You  advise  me,  then,  to  be  reconciled  to  the  abbe?': 
said  Fouquet  ironically. 

"I  advise  you,  monseigneur,  not  to  quarrel  with  a  hun 
dred  or  a  hundred  and  twenty   loose  fellows,  who,  by  put- 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  369 

ting  their  rapiers  end  to  end,  would   form  a  cordon  of  steel 
capable  of  surrounding  three  thousand  men." 

Fouquet  darted  a  searching  glance  at  Gourville,  and  pass- 
ing before  him: 

"That  is  all  very  well;  let  Monsieur  l'Abbe  Fouquet  be 
introduced,"  said  he  to  the  footman.  "You  are  right, 
Gourville." 

Two  minutes  after,  the  Abbe  Fouquet  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  with  profound  reverences.  He  was  a  man  of 
from  forty  to  forty-five  years  of  age,  half-churchman,  half- 
soldier — kspadassin  grafted  upon  an  abbe;  upon  seeing  that 
he  had  not  a  sword  by  his  side,  you  might  be  sure  he  had 
pistols.  Fouquet  saluted  him  more  as  an  elder  brother 
than  as  a  minister. 

"What  can  I  (xb  to  serve  you,  Monsieur  l'Abbe?"  said  he. 

"Oh!  oh!  how  you  speak  that  to  me,  brother !" 

"I  speak  it  like  a  man  who  is  in  a  hurry,  monsieur." 

The  abbe  looked  maliciously  at  Gourrille,  and  anxiously 
wt  Fouquet,  and  said: 

"I  have  three  hundred  pistoles  to  pay  to  Monsieur  de 
E/egi  this  evening.     A  play  debt,  a  sacred  debt." 

"Next,"  said  Fouquet  bravely;  for  he  comprehended 
that  the  Abbe  Fouquet  would  not  have  disturbed  him  for 
su  ;h  a  want. 

"'A  thousand  to  my  butcher,  who  will  supply  no  more." 

L'Next?" 

''Twelve  hundred  to  my  tailor,"  continued  the  abbe; 
"the  fellow  has  made  me  take  back  seven  suits  of  my  peo- 
ple's, which  compromises  my  liveries,  and  my  mistress  talks 
of  replacing  me  by  a  farmer  of  the  revenue,  which  would 
be  a  humiliation  for  the  church." 

"What  else  is  there?"  said  Fouquet. 

"You  will  please  to  remark,"  said  the  abbe  humbly, 
"that  I  have  asked  nothing  for  myself." 

"That  is  delicate,  monsieur,"  replied  Fouquet;  "so  as 
you  see,  I  wait." 

"And  I  ask  nothing,  oh,  no;  it  is  not  for  want  of  need, 
though,  I  assure  you." 

The  minister  reflected  a  minute. 

"Twelve  hundred  pistoles  to  the  tailor;  that  seems  a 
great  deal  for  clothes,"  said  he. 

"1  maintain  a  hundred  men,"  said  the  abbe  proudly; 
"that  is  a  charge,  I  believe." 

"Why  a  hundred  men?"  said  Fouquet.  "Are  you  & 
Kichelieu,  or  a  Mazarin,  to   require  a  hundred  men   as  a 


370  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAC4ELONNE. 

guard?  What  use  do  you  make  of  these  men? — speak— 
say." 

"And  do  you  ask  me  that?"  cried  the  Abbe  Fouquet. 
"An!  how  can  you  put  such  a  question — why  I  maintain  a 
hundred  men?    Ah!" 

"Why,  yes,  I  do  put  that  question  to  you.  What  have 
you  to  do  with  a  hundred  men?     Answer." 

"Ingrate!"  continued  the  abbe,  more  and  more  affected. 

"Explain  yourself." 

"Why,  Monsieur  le  Surintendant,  I  only  want  one  valet 
de  chambre,  for  my  part,  and  even  if  I  were  alone  could 
help  myself  very  well;  but  you,  you  who  have  so  many 
enemies — a  hundred  men  are  not  enough  for  me  to  defend 
you  with.  A  hundred  men!  you  ought  to  have  ten  thou- 
sand. I  maintain,  then,  these  men  in  order  that  in  public 
places,  in  assemblies,  no  voice  may  be  raised  against  you; 
and  without  them,  monsieur,  you  would  be  loaded  with  im- 
precations, you  would  be  torn  to  pieces,  you  would  not  last 
a  week,  no,  not  a  week;  do  you  understand?" 

"Ah!  I  did  not  know  you  were  my  champion  to  such  an 
extent,  Monsieur  l'Abbe." 

"You  doubt  it!"  cried  the  abbe.  "Listen,  then,  to  what 
happened,  not  longer  ago  than  yesterday,  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Hochette.     A  man  was  cheapening  a  fowl." 

"Well,  how  could  that  injure  me,  abbe?" 

"This  way:  The  fowl  was  not  fat.  The  purchaser  re- 
fused to  give  eighteen  sous  for  it,  saying  that  he  could  not 
afford  eighteen  sous  for  the  skin  of  a  fowl  of  which  Mon- 
sieur Fouquet  had  had  all  the  fat." 

"Goon." 

"The  joke  caused  a  deal  of  laughter,"  continued  the 
abbe;  "laughter  at  your  expense — death  to  all  the  devils! 
— and  the  canaille  were  delighted.  The  joker  added,  'Give 
me  a  fowl  fed  by  Monsieur  Colbert,  if  you  like,  and  I  will 
pay  all  you  ask.'  And  immediately  there  was  a  clapping 
of  hands.  A  frightful  scandal!  you  understand;  a  scandal 
which  forces  a  brother  to  hide  his  face." 

Fouquet  colored. 

"And  you  veiled  it?"  said  the  surintendant. 

"No;  for  it  so  happened  I  had  one  of  my  men  in  the 
crowd;  a  new  recruit  from  the  provinces,  one  Monsieur  de 
Menneville,  whom  I  like  very  much.  He  made  his  way 
through  the  press,  saying  to  the  joker:  ' Mille  barbes ! 
Monsieur  the  False  Joker,  here's  a  thrust  for  Colbert!' 
'And   one  for   Fouquet/   replied  the   joker.     Upon  which 


,    THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  371 

they  drew,  in  front  of  the  cook's  shop,  with  a  hedge  of  the 
curious  round  them,  and  five  hundred  as  curious  at  the 
windows." 

"Well?"  said  Fouquet. 

"Well,  monsieur,  my  Menneville  spitted  the  joker,  to  the 
great  astonishment  of  the  spectators,  and  said  to  the  cook, 
'Take  this  goose,  my  friend,  it  is  fatter  than  your  fowl.' 
That  is  the  way,  monsieur,"  ended  the  abbe  triumphantly,, 
''in  which  I  spend  my  revenues;  I  maintain  the  honor  of 
the  family,  monsieur." 

Fouquet  hung  his  head. 

"And  I  have  a  hundred  as  good  as  he,"  continued  the 
abbe. 

"Very  well,"  said  Fouquet,  "give  the  account  to  Gour- 
ville,  and  remain  here  this  evening." 

"Shall  we  have  supper?" 

"Yes,  there  will  be  supper." 

"But  the  chest  is  closed." 

"Gourville  will  open  it  for  you.  Leave  us,  Monsieur 
l'Abbe,  leave  us." 

'Then  we  are  friends?"  said  the  abbe,  with  a  bow. 

"Oh,  yes,  friends.     Come,  Gourville." 

"Are  you  going  out?     You  will  not  sup,  then?" 

"I  shall  be  back  in  an  hour;  be  contented,  abbe." 
Then,  aside  to  Gourville:  "Let  them  put  to  my  English 
horses,"  said  he,  "and  direct  the  coachman  to  stop  at  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  de  Paris." 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE   WINE  OF   M.    DE   LA   FONTAINE. 

Carriages  were  already  bringing  the  guests  of  Fouquet 
to  St.  Maude;  already  the  whole  house  was  getting  warm 
with  the  preparations  for  supper,  when  the  surintendant 
launched  his  fleet  horses  upon  the  road  to  Paris,  and  going 
by  the  quays,  in  order  to  meet  with  fewer  people  on  his 
route,  reached  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  It  wanted  a  quarter  to 
eight.  Fouquet  alighted  at  the  corner  of  the  Euede  Long- 
pont,  and,  on  foot,  directed  his  course  toward  the  Place  de 
Greve,  accompanied  by  Gourville.  At  the  turning  of  the 
Place,  they  saw  a  man  dressed  in  black  and  violet,  of  good 
mien,  who  was  preparing  to  get  into  a  hired  carriage,  and 
told  the  coachman  to  stop  at  Vino^nnes.     He  had  before 


372  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

him  a  large  hamper  filled  with  bottles,  which  he  had  just 
purchased  at  the  cabaret  with  the  sign  of  "L'Image  de 
Notre  Dame." 

"Eh,  but  that  is  Vatel!  my  maltre  d'hotel!"  said  Fou- 
quet  to  Gourville. 

"Yes,  monseigneur,"  replied  the  latter. 

"What  can  he  have  been  doing  at  the  sign  of  L'Image  de 
Notre  Dame?" 
(     "Buying  wine,  no  doubt." 

"What!  buy  wine  for  me  at  a  cabaret!"  said  Fouquet. 
"My  cellar,  then,  must  be  in  a  miserable  condition!"  and 
he  advanced  toward  the  maltre  d'hotel,  who  was  arranging 
his  bottles  in  the  carriage  with  the  most  minute  care. 

"Hola!  Vatel,"  said  he,  in  the  voice  of  a  master. 

"Take  care,  monseigneur!"  said  Gourville,  "you  will  b© 
recognized." 

"Very  well.     Of  what  consequence?    Vatel!" 

The  man  dressed  in  black  and  violet  turned  round.  He 
had  a  good  and  mild  countenance,  without  expression — a 
mathematician,  less  the  pride.  A  certain  fire  sparkled  in 
the  eyes  of  this  personage,  a  smile  rather  sly  played  round 
his  lips;  but  the  observer  might  soon  have  remarked  that 
this  lire  and  this  smile  applied  to  nothing,  enlightened 
nothing.  Vatel  laughed  like  an  absent  man,  and  amused 
himself  like  a  child.  At  the  sound  of  his  master's  voice  he 
turned  round,  exclaiming: 

"Oh!  monseigneur!" 

"Yes,  it  is  I.  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here,  Vatel? 
Wine!  You  are  buying  wine  at  a  cabaret  in  the  Place  de 
Greve?" 

"But,  monseigneur,"  said  Vatel  quietly,  after  having 
darted  a  hostile  glance  at  Gourville,  "why  am  I  interfered 
with  here?     Is  my  cellar  kept  in  bad  order?" 

"No,  certes,  Vatel,  no;  but " 

"But  what?"  replied  Vatel. 

Gourville  touched  the  elbow  of  Fouquet. 

"Don't  be  angry,  Vatel.  I  thought  my  cellar — your 
cellar — sufficiently  well  stocked  for  us  to  be  able  to  dispense 
with  having  recourse  to  the  cellar  of  L'Image  de  Notre 
Dame." 

"Eh,  monsieur,"  said  Vatel,  sinking  from  monseigneur 
to  monsieur  with  a  degree  of  disdain,  "your  cellar  is  so  well 
stocked  that  when  certain  of  your  guests  dine  with  you  they 
have  nothing  to  drink." 

Fouquet,  in  great  surprise,  looked  at  Gourville. 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNB.  373 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"1  mean  that  your  butler  had  not  wine  for  all  tastes 
monsieur;  and  that  Monsieur  de  la  Fontaine,  Monsieur  Pel- 
lisson,  and  Monsieur  Conrad  do  not  drink  when  they  come 
to  the  house — those  messieurs  do  not  like  strong  wine. 
What  is  to  be  done,  then?" 

"Well,  and  so?" 

"Well,  then,  I  have  found  here  a  vin  de  Joigny  which 
they  like.  I  know  they  come  once  a  week  to  drink  at  the 
Image  de  Notre  Dame.  That  is  the  reason  why  I  make 
this  provision." 

Fouquet  had  no  more  to  say,  he  was  almost  affected. 
Vatel,  on  his  part,  had  much  more  to  say,  without  doubt, 
and  it  was  plain  he  was  getting  warm. 

"It  is  just  as  if  you  would  reproach  me,  monseigneur, 
for  going  to  the  Eue  Planchet  Milbray  to  fetch,  myself,  the 
cider  Monsieur  Loret  drinks  when  he  comes  to  dine  at  your 
house." 

"Loret  drinks  cider  at  my  house!"  cried  Fouquet,  laugh- 
ing. 

"Certainly  he  does,  monsieur,  and  that  is  the  reason  why 
he  dines  there  with  pleasure." 

"Vatel,"  cried  Fouquet,  pressing  the  hand  of  his  maitre 
d' hotel  "you  are  a  man!  I  thank  you,  Vatel,  for  having 
understood  that  at  my  house  Monsieur  de  la  Fontaine, 
Monsieur  Conrad,  and  Monsieur  Loret  are  as  great  as  dukes 
and  peers,  as  great  as  princes,  greater  than  myself.  Vatel, 
you  are  a  good  servant,  and  I  double  your  salary." 

Vatel  did  not  even  thank  his  master;  he  merely  shrugged 
his  shoulders  a  little,  murmuring  this  superb  sentiment: 

"To  be  thanked  for  having  done  one's  duty  is  humiliat- 
ing." 

"He  is  right,"  said  Gourville,  as  he  drew  Fouquet's  at- 
tention, by  a  gesture,  to  another  point.  He  showed  him  a 
low-built  carriage,  drawn  by  two  horses,  upon  which  rocked 
two  strong  gibbets,  bound  together,  back  to  back,  by  chains, 
while  an  archer,  seated  upon  the  thickness  of  the  post,  un- 
derwent, as  well  as  he  could,  with  his  head  cast  down,  the 
comments  of  a  hundred  vagabonds,  who  guessed  the  desti- 
nation of  the  gibbets,  and  escorted  them  to  the  Hotel  do 
Ville.     Fouquet  started. 

"It  is  decided,  you  see,"  said  Gourville. 

"But  it  is  not  done,"  replied  Fouquet 

''Oh,  do  not  flatter  yourself,  monseigneur;  if  they  have 


374  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BBAGELOKXE. 

thus  lulled  your  friendship  and  suspicions — if  things  hava 
gone  so  far,  you  will  undo  nothing." 

"But  I  have  not  ratified." 

"Monsieur  de  Lyonne  has  ratified  for  you." 

"I  will  go  to  the  Louvre." 

"Oh,  no,  you  will  not!" 

"Would  you  advise  such  baseness?"  cried  Fouquet5 
"would  you  advise  me  to  abandon  my  friends?  would  you 
advise  me,  while  able  to  fight,  to  throw  the  arms  I  have  in 
my  hand  to  the  ground?" 

"I  do  not  advise  you  to  do  anything  of  the  kind,  mon 
seigneur.  Are  you  in  a  position  to  quit  the  post  of  surin 
tendant  at  this  moment?" 

"No." 

"Well,  if  the  king  wishes  to  displace  you " 

"He  will  displace  me  absent  as  well  as  present." 

"Yes,  but  you  will  never  have  insulted  him." 

"Yes,  but  I  shall  have  been  base;  now  I  am  not  willing 
that  my  friends  should  die;  and  they  shall  not  die!" 

"For  that  it  is  necessary  you  should  go  to  the  Louvre." 

"Gourville!" 

"Beware!  Once  at  the  Louvre,  you  will  be  forced  to 
defend  your  friends  openly,  that  is  to  say,  to  make  a  profes- 
sion of  faith,  or  you  will  be  forced  to  abandon  them 
irrevocably." 

"Never!" 

"Pardon  me;  the  king  will  propose  the  alternative  to  you, 
rigorously,  or  else  you  will  propose  it  to  him  yourself." 

"That  is  true." 

"That  is  the  reason  why  conflict  must  be  avoided.  Let 
us  return  to  St.  Mande,  monseigneur." 

"Gourville,  I  will  not  stir  from  this  place,  where  the 
crime  is  to  be  carried  out,  where  my  disgrace  is  to  be 
accomplished;  I  will  not  stir,  I  say,  till  I  have  found  some 
means  of  combating  my  enemies." 

"Monseigneur,"  replied  Gourville,  "you  would  excite  my 
pity  if  I  did  not  know  you  for  one  of  the  great  spirits  ol 
this  world.  You  possess  a  hundred  and  fifty  millions,  you 
are  equal  to  the  king  in  position,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty 
millions  his  superior  in  money.  Monsieur  Colbert  has  not 
even  had  the  wit  to  have  the  testament  of  Mazarin  accepted. 
Now,  when  a  man  is  the  richest  person  in  a  kingdom,  and 
will  take  the  trouble  to  spend  the  money,  if  that  be  done 
which  he  does  not  like,  it  is  because  he  is  a  poor  man.  Let 
us  return  to  St.  Mande,  I  say  " 


THE   VTCOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  375 

"To  consult  with  Pellisson?     We  will.5' 

"So  be  it,"  said  Fouquet,  with  hie  syes  inflamed;  <;yes, 
yes,  to  St.  Mande!" 

He  got  into  his  carriage  again,  and  Gourville  with  him. 
Upon  their  road,  at  the  end  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine, 
they  overtook  tne  humble  equipage  of  Vatel,  who  was 
quietly  conveying  along  his  vin  de  Joigny.  The  black 
horses,  going  at  a  swift  pace,  alarmed,  as  they  passed,  the 
timid  hack  of  the  maitre  d'hotel,  who,  putting  his  head  out 
at  the  wiudow,  cried,  in  a  fright: 

"Take  care  of  my  bottles." 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

THE  GALLERY   OF   ST.    MANDE. 

Fifty  persons  were  waiting  for  the  surintendant.  He 
did  not  even  take  the  time  to  place  himself  in  the  hands  of 
his  valet  de  chambre  for  a  minute,  but  from  the  perron 
went  straight  into  the  premier  salon.  There  his  friends 
were  assembled  in  full  chat.  The  intendant  was  about  to 
order  supper  to  be  served,  but,  above  all,  the  Abbe  Fouquet 
watched  the  return  of  his  brother,  and  was  endeavoring  to 
do  the  honors  of  the  house  in  his  absence.  Upon  the 
arrival  of  the  surintendant  a  murmur  of  joy  and  affection 
was  heard.  Fouquet,  full  of  affability,  good-humor,  and 
munificence,  was  beloved  by  his  poets,  his  artists,  and  his 
men  of  business.  His  brow,  upon  which  his  little  court 
read,  as  upon  that  of  a  god,  all  the  movements  of  his  soul, 
and  thence  drew  rules  of  conduct — his  brow,  upon  which 
affairs  of  state  never  impressed  a  wrinkle,  was  this  evening 
paler  than  usual,  and  more  than  one  friendly  eye  remarked 
that  paleness.  Fouquet  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  and  presided  gayly  during  supper.  He  recounted 
Vatel's  expedition  to  La  Fontaine,  he  related  the  history  of 
Menneville  and  the  thin  fowl  to  Pellisson,  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  all  the  table  heard  it.  A  tempest  of  laughter  and 
jokes  ensued,  which  was  only  checked  by  a  serious  and  even 
sad  gesture  from  Pellisson.  The  Abbe  Fouquet,  not  being 
able  to  comprehend  why  his  brother  should  have  led  the 
conversation  in  that  direction,  listened  with  all  his  ears, 
and  sought  in  the  countenance  of  Gourville,  or  in  that  of 
his  brother,  an  explanation  which  nothing  afforded  him. 
Pellisson  took  up  the  matter: 


376  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Did  they  mention  Monsieur  Colbert,  then?"  said  he. 

"Why  not?"  replied  Fouquct;  "if  true,  as  it  is  said  to  be, 
that  the  king  has  made  him  his  intendant." 

Scarcely  had  Fouquet  uttered  these  words,  with  a  marked 
intention,  than  an  explosion  broke  forth  among  the  guests. 

"The  miser!"  said  one. 

"The  mean,  pitiful  fellow!"  said  another. 

"The  hypocrite!"  said  a  third. 

Pellisson  exchanged  a  meaning  look  with  Fouquet. 

"Messieurs,"  said  he,  "in  truth  we  are  abusing  a  man 
whom  no  one  knows;  it  is  neither  charitable  nor  reasonable; 
and  here  is  Monsieur  le  Surintendant,  who,  I  am  sure, 
agrees  with  me." 

"Entirely,"  replied  Fouquet.  "Let  the  fat  fowls  of 
Monsieur  Colbert  alone;  our  business  to-day  is  with  the 
faisans  truffes  of  Monsieur  Vatel." 

This  speech  stopped  the  dark  cloud  which  was  beginning 
to  throw  its  shade  over  the  guests.  Gourville  succeeded  so 
well  in  animating  the  poets  with  the  vin  de  Joigny ;  the 
abbe,  intelligent  as  a  man  who  stands  in  need  of  the  crowns 
of  another,  so  enlivened  the  financiers  and  the  men  of  the 
sword,  that,  amid  the  vapors  of  this  joy  and  the  noise  of 
conversation,  the  object  of  inquietude  disappeared  com- 
pletely. The  testament  of  Cardinal  Mazarin  was  the  text 
of  the  conversation  at  the  second  course  and  dessert;  then 
Fouquet  ordered  basins  of  confitures  and  fountains  of 
liqueurs  to  be  carried  into  the  salon  adjoining  the  gallery. 
He  led  the  way  thither,  conducting  by  the  hand  a  lady,  the 
queen,  by  his  preference,  of  the  evening.  The  musicians 
then  supped,  and  the  promenades  in  the  gallery  and  the 
gardens  commenced,  beneath  a  spring  sky,  mild  and  per- 
fumed. Pellisson  then  approached  the  surintendant  and 
said: 

"Something  troubles  monseigneur?" 

"Greatly,"  replied  the  minister;  "ask  Gourville  to  tell 
you  what  it  is." 

Pellisson,  in  turning  round,  found  La  Fontaine  treading 
upon  his  heels.  He  was  obliged  to  listen  to  a  Latin  verse, 
which  the  poet  had  composed  upon  Vatel.  La  Fontaine 
had,  for  an  hour,  been  scanning  this  verse  in  all  corners, 
seeking  some  one  to  pour  it  out  upon  advantageously.  He 
thought  he  had  caught  Pellisson,  but  the  latter  escaped 
him;  he  turned  toward  Sorel,  who  had,  himself,  just  com- 
posed a  quatrain  in  honor  of  the  supper  and  the  Amphy- 
trion.     La  Fontaine  in  vain  endeavored  to  gain  atteutiou  to 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  377 

his  verses;  Sorel  wanted  to  obtain  a  hearing  for  his  quatrain* 
He  was  obliged  to  retrograde  before  M.  le  Comte  de 
Chanost,  whose  arm  Fouquet  had  just  taken.  L'Abbe 
Fouquet  perceived  that  the  poet,  as  absent  as  usual,  was 
about  to  follow  the  two  talkers,  and  he  interposed.  La 
Fontaine  seized  upon  him,  and  recited  his  verses.  The 
abb£,  who  was  quite  innocent  of  Latin,  nodded  his  head,  in 
icadence,  at  every  roll  which  La  Fontaine  impressed  upon 
his  body,  according  to  the  undulations  of  the  dactyls  and 
spondees.  While  this  was  going  on,  behind  the  confiture- 
basins,  Fouquet  related  the  event  of  the  day  to  his  son-in- 
law,  M.  de  Chanost. 

''We  must  send  the  idle  and  useless  to  look  at  the  fire- 
works," said  Pellisson  to  Gourville,  "while  we  converse 
here." 

"So  be  it,"  said  Gourville,  addressing  four  words  to 
Vatel. 

The  latter  then  led  toward  the  gardens  the  major  part  of 
the  beaus,  the  ladies,  and  the  chatterers,  while  the  men 
walked  in  the  gallery,  lighted  by  three  hundred  wax-lights, 
in  the  sight  of  all;  the  admirers  of  fireworks  all  ran  away 
toward  the  garden.  Gourville  approached  Fouquet  and 
said: 

"Monsieur,  we  are  all  here." 

"All?"  said  Fouquet. 

"Yes. — count." 

The   surintendant   counted;    there  were  eight  persons. 
Pellisson  and   Gourville  walked  arm  in  arm,  as  if  convers- 
ing upon  vague  and  light  subjects.     Sorel  and  two  officers 
imitated   them,  in  an  opposite  direction.     The  Abbe  Fou- 
i  quet  walked  alone.     Fouquet,  with   M.  de  Chanost,  walked 
;  as  if  entirely  absorbed  by  the  conversation  of  his  son-in-law. 

"Messieurs,"  said  he,  "let  no  one  of  you  raise  his  head  as 
he  walks,  or  appear  to  pay  attention  to  me;  continue  walk- 
ing; we  are  alone;  listen  to  me." 

A  perfect  silence  ensued,  disturbed  only  by  the  distant 
cries  of  the  joyous  guests  from  the  groves  whence  they  be- 
held the  fireworks.  It  was  a  whimsical  spectacle  this,  of 
these  men  walking  in  groups,  as  if  each  one  was  occupied 
about  something,  while  lending  attention  really  to  only  one 
among  them,  who,  himself,  seemed  to  be  speaking  only  to 
his  companion. 

"Messieurs,"  said  Fouquet,  "you  have,  without  doubt, 
remarked  the  absence  of  two  of  my  friends  this  evening, 
who  were  with  us  on  Wednesday.     For  God's  sake,  abbe,  da 


378  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

not  stop;  it  is  not  necessary  to  enable  you  to  listen;  walk 
on,  carrying  your  head  in  a  natural  way,  and  as  you  have 
an  excellent  sight,  place  yourself  at  the  window,  and  if  any 
one  returns  toward  the  gallery,  give  us  notice  by  coughing." 

The  abbe  obeyed. 

"I  have  not  observed  the  absent,"  said  Pellisson,  who, 
at  this  moment,  was  turning  his  back  to  Fouquet,  and  walk-, 
ing  the  other  way. 

"I  do  not  see  Monsieur  Lyodot,"  said  Sorel,  "who  pays 
me  my  pension." 

"And  I,"  said  the  abbe,  at  the  window,  "do  not  see  Mon- 
sieur d'Eymeris,  who  owes  me  eleven  hundred  livres  from 
our  last  game  at  Brelan." 

"Sorel,"  continued  Fouquet,  walking  bent  and  gloomily, 
"you  will  never  receive  your  pension  any  more  from  Mon- 
sieur Lyodot;  and  you,  abbe,  will  never  be  paid  your  eleven 
hundred  livres  by  Monsieur  d'Eymeris,  for  both  are  about 
to  die." 

"To  die!"  exclaimed  the  whole  assembly,  stopped,  in 
spite  of  themselves,  in  the  scene  they  were  playing,  by  that 
terrible  word. 

"Recover  yourselves,  messieurs,"  said  Fouquet,  "for  per- 
haps we  are  watched.     I  said:  'to  die!'  " 

"To  die!"  repeated  Pellisson.  "What!  the  men  I  saw 
six  days  ago,  full  of  health,  gayety,  and  a  future?  What, 
then,  is  man,  good  God!  that  disease  should  thus  bring  him 
down  all  at  once." 

"It  is  not  a  disease,"  said  Fouquet. 

"Then  there  is  a  remedy,"  said  Soreh 

"No  remedy.  Messieurs  de  Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris  are 
on  the  eve  of  their  last  day." 

"Of  what  are  these  gentlemen  dying,  then?"  asked  an 
officer. 

"Ask  of  him  who  kills  them,"  replied  Fouquet. 

"Who  kills  them?  Are  they  being  killed,  then?"  criec 
the  terrified  chorus. 

"They  do  better  still;  they  are  hanging  them,"  mur- 
mured Fouquet,  in  a  sinister  voice  which  sounded  like  a 
funeral  knell  in -that  rich  gallery,  splendid  with  pictures, 
flowers,  velvet,  and  gold.  Involuntarily  every  one  stopped; 
the  abbe  quitted  his  window;  the  first  fusees  of  the  fire- 
works began  to  mount  above  the  trees.  A  prolonged  cry 
from  the  gardens  attracted  the  surintendant  to  enjoy  the 
spectacle.  He  drew  near  to  a  window,  and  his  friends 
placed  themselves  behind  him,  attentive  to  his  least  wish. 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  379 

''Messieurs,"  said  he,  "Monsieur  Colbert  has  caused  to 
be  arrested,  tried,  and  will  execute  to  death  my  two  friends. 
What  does  it  become  me  to  do?" 

"Mordieux!"  exclaimed  the  abbe,  the  first  'run  Monsieur 
Colbert  through  the  body." 

"Monseigneur,"  said  Pellisson,  "you  must  speak  to  his 
majesty." 

''The  king,  my  dear  Pellisson,  has  signed  the  order  for  the 
execution." 

"Well,"  said  the  Comte  de  Chanost,  "the  execution  mus' 
not  take  place,  then;  that  is  all." 

"Impossible!"  said  Gourville,  "unless  we  could  corrupt 
the  jailers." 

"Or  the  governor,"  said  Fouquet. 

"This  night  the  prisoners  might  be  allowed  to  escape." 

"Which  of  you  will  take  charge  of  the  transaction?" 

"I,"  said  the  abbe,  "will  carry  the  money." 

"And  I,"  said  Pellisson,  "will  be  bearer  of  the  words." 

"Words  and  money,"  said  Fouquet;  "five  hundred  thou- 
sand livres  to  the  governor  of  the  conciergerie,  that  is 
sufficient;  nevertheless,  it  shall  be  a  million,  if  necessary." 

"A  million!"  cried  the  abbe.  "Why,  for  less  than  half 
I  would  cause  the  half  of  Paris  to  be  sacked." 

"There  must  be  no  disorder,"  said  Pellisson.  "The  gov- 
ernor being  won,  the  two  prisoners  escape;  once  clear  of 
the  fangs  of  the  law,  they  will  call  together  the  enemies  of 
Colbert,  and  prove  to  the  king  that  his  young  justice,  like 
all  other  exaggerations,  is  not  infallible." 

"Go  to  Paris,  then,  Pellisson,"  said  Fouquet,  "and  bring 
hither  the  two  victims;  to-morrow  we  shall  see." 

Gourville  gave  Pellisson  the  five  hundred  thousand  livres. 

"Take  care  the  wind  does  not  carry  you  away,"  said  the 
abbe.  "What  a  responsibility!  Peste!  Let  me  help  you 
a  little." 

"Silence!"  said  Fouquet;  "somebody  is  coming.  Ah! 
the  fireworks  are  producing  a  magical  effect." 

At  this  moment  a  shower  of  sparks  fell  rustling  among 
the  branches  of  the  neighboring  trees.  Pellisson  and  Gour- 
ville went  out  together  by  the  door  of  the  gallery;  Fouquet 
descended  to  the  garden  with  the  five  last  plotters. 


380  THE  YlCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

CHAPTER  LVIII. 

IHE   EPICUREANS. 

As  Fouquet  was  giving,  or  appearing  to  give,  all  his 
attention  to  the  brilliant  illuminations,  the  languishing 
music  of  the  violins  and  hautboys,  the  sparkling  sheaves  of 
the  artificial  fires,  which,  inflaming  the  heavens  with  glow- 
ing reflections,  marked  behind  the  trees  the  dark  profile  of 
the  donjon  of  Vincennes;  as  we  say,  the  surintendant  was 
smiling  on  the  ladies  and  the  poets,  the/ete  was  not  less 
gay  than  ordinary;  and  Vatcl,  whose  restless,  even  jealous 
look,  earnestly  consulted  the  look  of  Fouquet,  did  not  ap- 
pear dissatisfied  with  the  welcome  given  to  the  ordering  of 
the  evening's  entertainment.  The  fireworks  over,  the 
company  dispersed  about  the  gardens,  and  beneath  the 
marble  porticoes  with  the  delightful  liberty  which  reveals 
in  the  master  of  the  house  so  much  forgetfulness  of  great- 
ness, so  much  courteous  hospitality,  so  much  magnificent 
carelessness.  The  poets  wandered  about,  arm  in  arm, 
through  the  groves;  some  reclined  upon  beds  of  moss,  to 
the  great  damage  of  velvet  clothes  and  curled  heads,  into 
which  little  dried  leaves  and  blades  of  grass  insinuated 
themselves.  The  ladies,  in  small  numbers,  listened  to  the 
songs  of  the  singers  and  the  verses  of  the  poets;  others 
listened  to  the  prose,  spoken  with  much  art,  by  men  who 
were  neither  actors  nor  poets,  but  to  whom  youth  and  soli- 
tude gave  an  unaccustomed  eloquence,  which  appeared  to 
them  preferable  to  all. 

"Why,"  said  La  Fontaine,  "does  not  our  master,  Epi- 
curus, descend  into  the  garden?  Epicurus  never  abandoned 
his  pupils;  the  master  is  wrong." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Conrad,  "you  are  very  wrong  in  per- 
sisting to  decorate  yourself  with  the  name  of  an  Epicurean; 
indeed,  nothing  here  reminds  me  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
philosopher  of  Gargetta. " 

"Bah!"  said  La  Fontaine,  "is  it  not  written  that  Epi- 
curus purchased  a  large  garden  and  lived  in  it  tranquilly 
with  his  friends?" 

"That  is  true." 

"Well,  has  not  Monsieur  Fouquet  purchased  a  large  gar- 
den at  St.  Maude,  and  do  we  not  live  here  very  tranquilly 
with  him  and  his  friends?" 

"Yes,  without  doubt;  unfortunately,  it  is  neither  the 
gaiden  nor  the  friends  which  can  make  the  resemblance, 


THE   VICOMTE   DR   BRAGELOHNE.  381 

Now,  what  likeness  is  there  between  the  doctrine  of  Epi- 
curus and  that  of  Monsieur  Fouquet?" 

"This — pleasure  gives  happiness. " 

"Next?" 

"Well,  I  do  not  think  we  ought  to  consider  ourselves  un- 
fortunate; for  my  part,  at  least.  A  good  repast — vin  de 
Joigny,  which  they  have  the  delicacy  to  go  and  fetch  for 
me' from  my  favorite  cabaret — not  one  impertinence  heard 
during  a  supper  of  an  hour  long,  in  spite  of  the  presence 
of  ten  millionaires  and  twenty  poets." 

"I  stop  you  there.  You  mentioned  vin  de  Joigny,  and 
%  good  repast;  do  you  persist  in  that?" 

"I  persist,  anteco,  as  they  say  at  Port  Eoyal." 

"Then  please  to  recollect  that  the  great  Epicurus  lived, 
and  made  his  pupils  live,  upon  bread,  vegetables,  and  clear 
water." 

"That  is  not  certain,"  said  La  Fontaine;  "and  you  ap- 
pear to  me  to  be  confounding  Epicurus  with  Pythagoras, 
my  dear  Conrad." 

"Kemember,  likewise,  that  the  ancient  philosopher  was 
rather  a  bad  friend  of  the  gods  and  the  magistrates." 

"Oh!  that  is  what  I  cannot  suffer,"  replied  La  Fontaine. 
"Epicurus  was  like  Monsieur  Fouquet." 

"Do  not  compare  him  to  Monsieur  le  Surintendant,"  said 
Conrad,  in  an  agitated  voice,  "or  you  would  accredit  the 
reports  which  are  circulated  concerning  him  and  us." 

"What  reports?" 

"That  we  are  bad  Frenchmen,  lukewarm  with  regard  to 
the  monarch,  deaf  to  the  law." 

"I  return,  then,  to  my  text,"  said  La  Fontaine.  "Lis- 
ten, Conrad,  this  is  the  morality  of  Epicurus,  whom,  besides, 
I  consider,  if  I  must  tell  you  so,  as  a  myth.  All  which 
touches  the  least  upon  antiquity  is  a  myth.  Jupiter,  if  we 
give  a  little  attention  to  it,  is  life.  Alcides  is  strength. 
The  words  are  there  to  bear  me  out;  Zeus,  that  is  zen,  to 
live.  Alcides,  that  is  alii,  vigor.  Well,  Epicurus,  that 
is  mild  watchfulness,  that  is  protection;  now,  who  watches 
better  over  the  state,  or  who  protects  individuals  better 
than  Monsieur  Fouquet  does?" 

"You  talk  etymology  and  not  morality;  I  say  that  we 
modern  Epicureans  are  troublesome  citizens." 

"Oh!"  cried  La  Fontaine,  "if  we  become  troublesome 
citizens,  it  will  not  be  in  following  the  maxims  of  our  mas- 
ter.    Listen  to  one  of  his  principal  aphorisms." 

"I  listen." 


382  THE  VICOMTE  DE   BRAGELONNB. 

''Wish  for  good  leaders.'* 

"Well?" 

"Well,  what  does  Monsieur  Fouquet  say  to  us  every  day? 
'WThen  shall  we  be  governed?'  Does  he  say  so?  Come, 
Conrad,  be  frank." 

"He  says  so,  that  is  true." 

"Well,  that  is  a  doctrine  of  Epicurus. 

"Yes;  but  that  is  a  little  seditious,  observe." 

"How!  seditious  to  wish  to  be  governed  by  good  heads 
or  leaders?" 

"Certainly,  when  those  who  govern  are  bad." 

"Patience!     I  have  a  reply  for  all." 

"Even  for  that  I  have  just  said  to  you?" 

"Listen;  would  you  submit  to  those  who  govern  ill?  Oh, 
it  is  written:  ' Cacos  politeuousi.'     You  grant  me  the  text?" 

"Pardieu  /"  I  think  so.  Do  you  know  you  speak  Greek 
as  well  as  iEsop  did,  my  dear  La  Fontaine?'' 

"Is  there  any  wickedness  in  that,  my  dear  Conrad?" 

"God  forbid  I  should  say  so!" 

"Then,  let  us  return  to  Monsieur  Fouquet.  What  did 
he  repeat  to  us  all  the  day?  Was  it  not  this?  'What  a 
cuistre  is  that  Mazarin!  what  an  ass!  what  a  leech!  We 
must,  however,  submit  to  the  fellow.'  Now,  Conrad,  did 
he  say  so,  or  did  he  not?" 

"I  confess  that  he  said  it,  and  even  perhaps  too  often." 

"Like  Epicurus,  my  friend,  still  like  Epicurus;  I  repeat, 
we  are  Epicureans,  and  that  is  very  amusing." 

"Yes;  but  I  am  afraid  there  will  rise  up,  by  the  side  of 
us,  a  sect  like  that  of  Epictetus;  you  know  him  well;  the 
philosopher  of  Hieropolis,  he  who  called  bread  luxury, 
vegetables  prodigality,  and  clear  water  drunkenness;  he 
who,  being  beaten  by  his  master,  said  to  him,  grumbling  a 
little,  it  is  true,  but  without  being  angry:  'I  will  lay  a 
wager  you  have  broken  my  leg,'  and  who  won  his  wager." 

"He  was  a  gosling,  that  Epictetus." 

"Granted;  but  he  might  easily  become  the  fashion  by 
only  changing  his  name  into  that  of  Colbert." 

"Bah!"  replied  La  Fontaine,  "that  is  impossible.  Never 
will  you  find  Colbert  in  Epictetus." 

"You  are  right;  I  shall  find — Coluber  there,  at  the  most." 

"Ah!  you  are  beaten,  Conrad;  you  are  reduced  to  a  play 
upon  words.  Monsieur  Arnaud  pretends  that  I  have  no 
logic;  I  have  more  than  Monsieur  Nicolle." 

"Yes,"  replied  Conrad:  "you  have  logic,  but  you  are  a 
Jansenist.' 


THE  VICOMTE  I)£  BRAGELONNE.  383 

This  peroration  was  hailed  by  an  immense  shout  of 
'aughter;  by  degrees  the  promenaders  had  been  attracted 
by  the  exclamations  of  the  two  disputants  around  the  arbor 
under  which  they  argued.  All  the  discussion  had  been 
religiously  listened  to,  and  Fouquet  himself,  scarcely  able 
to  suppress  his  laughter,  had  given  an  example  of  modera- 
tion. But  the  denouement  of  the  scene  threw  off  all  re- 
staint;  he  laughed  aloud.  Everybody  laughed  as  he  did, 
and  the  two  philosophers  were  saluted  by  unanimous 
felicitations,  La  Fontaine,  however,  was  declared  con- 
queror, on  account  of  his  profound  erudition  and  his  irre- 
fragable logic.  Conrad  obtained  the  compensation  due  to  * 
an  unsuccessful  combatant;  he  was  praised  for  his  loyalty 
and  the  purity  of  his  conscience. 

At  the  moment  when  this  joy  was  manifesting  itself  by 
the  most  lively  demonstrations,  at  the  moment  when  the 
ladies  were  reproaching  the  two  adversaries  with  not  hav- 
ing admitted  women  into  the  system  of  Epicurean  happi- 
ness, Gourville  was  seen  hastening  from  the  other  end  of 
^he  garden,  approaching  Fouquet,  who  surveyed  him  anx- 
iously, and  detaching  him,  by  his  presence  alone,  from  the 
group.  The  surintendant  preserved  upon  his  face  the 
fjmile  and  the  character  of  carelessness;  but  scarcely  was  he 
aut  of  sight  than  he  threw  off  the  mask. 

"Well,"  said  he  eagerly,  "where  is  Pellisson?  What  is 
he  doing?" 

"Pellisson  is  returned  from  Paris." 

"Has  he  brought  back  the  prisoners?" 

"He  has  not  even  seen  the  concierge  of  the  prison.'* 

"What!  did  he  not  tell  him  he  came  from  me?" 

"He  told  him  so,  but  the  concierge  sent  him  this  reply: 
*If  any  one  came  to  me  from  Monsieur  Fouquet  ha  would 
have  a  letter  from  Monsieur  Fouquet.'  " 

"Oh!"  cried  the  latter,  "if  a  letter  is  all  he  wants — — *' 

"Never,  monsieur!"  said  Pellisson,  showing  himself  a: 
the  corner  of  the  little  wood,  "never!  Go  yourself,  and 
speak  in  your  own  name." 

"You  are  right.  I  will  go  in,  as  if  to  work;  let  ths 
horses  remain  harnessed,  Pellisson.  Entertain  my  friends, 
Gourville." 

"One  last  word  of  advice,  monseigneur,"  replied  the 
latter. 

"Speak,  Gourville." 

"Do  not  go  to  the  concierge  but  at  the  last  minute;  it  i 
brave,  but  it  is  not  wise.     Excuse  me,  Monsieur  Peiiissoi 


384  THE  VICOMTE   BE   BRAGELONNE. 

if  I  am  not  of  the  same  opinion  as  you;  but  believe  me, 
mouseigneur,  send  again  a  message  to  this  concierge — he  is 
a  worthy  man,  but  do  not  carry  it  yourself." 

"I  will  think  of  it,;/  said  Fouquet;  "besides.,  we  have 
all  the  night  before  us." 

"Do  not  reckon  too  much  upon  time;  were  the  time  we 
have  double  what  it  is,  it  would  not  be  too  much,"  replied 
Pellisson;  "it  is  never  a  fault  to  arrive  too  soon. 

"Adieu!"  said  the  surintendant;  "come  with  me,  Pellis- 
son.    Gourville,  I  commend  my  guests  to  your  care." 

And  he  set  off.  The  Epicureans  did  not  perceive  that 
the  head  of  the  school  had  left  them;  the  violins  continued 
playing  all  night. 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

A   QUARTER  OF  AN   HOUR'S   DELAY. 

Fouquet,  on  leaving  his  house  for  the  second  time  that 
day,  felt  himself  less  heavy  and  less  disturbed  than  might 
have  been  expected.  He  turned  toward  Pellisson,  who  was 
meditating  in  the  corner  of-  the  carriage  some  good  argu- 
ments against  the  violent  proceedings  of  Colbert. 

"My  dear  Pellisson,"  said  Fouquet,  then,  "it  is  a  great 
pity  you  are  not  a  woman." 

"I  think,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  very  fortunate,"  replied 
Pellisson,  "for,  monseigneur,  I  am  excessively  ugly." 

"Pellisson!  Pellisson!"  said  the  surintendant,  laughing. 
"You  repeat  too  often,  you  are  'ugly,'  not  to  leave  people 
to  believe  that  it  gives  you  much  pain." 

"In  fact,  it  does,  monseigneur,  much;  there  is  no  man 
more  unfortunate  than  I.  I  was  handsome,  the  smallpox 
rendered  me  hideous;  I  am  deprived  of  a  great  means  of 
seduction;  now,  I  am  your  principal  clerk,  or  something  of 
that  sort;  I  take  great  interest  in  your  affairs,  and  if,  at 
this  moment,  I  were  a  pretty  woman,  I  could  render  you  an 
important  service." 

"What?" 

"I  would  go  and  find  the  concierge  of  the  Palais;  I  would 
seduce  him,  for  he  is  a  gallant  man,  extravagantly  partial 
to  women;  then  I  would  get  away  our  two  prisoners." 

"I  hope  to  be  able  to  do  so  myself,  although  I  am  not  a 
pretty  woman,"  replied  Fouquet. 


THE    VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  385 

44Granted,  monseigneur;  but  you  are  compromising  your- 
self very  much." 

"Oh!"  cried  Fouquet  suddenly,  with  one  of  those  secret 
transports  which  the  generous  blood  of  youth,  or  the  re- 
membrance of  some  sweet  emotion,  infuses  into  the  heart. 
"Oh!  I  know  a  woman  who  will  enact  the  personage  we 
stand  in  need  of  with  the  lieutenant-governor  of  the  con- 
ciergerie." 

"And,  on  my  part,  I  know  fifty,  monseigneur;  fifty 
trumpets,  which  will  inform  the  universe  of  your  generos- 
ity, of  your  devotion  to  your  friends,  and,  consequently, 
will  ruin  you  sooner  or  later  in  ruining  themselves." 

"I  do  not  speak  of  such  women,  Pellisson;  I  speak  of  a 
noble  and  beautiful  creature  who  joins  to  the  intelligence 
and  wit  of  her  sex  the  valor  and  coolness  of  ours;  I  speak 
of  a  woman  handsome  enough  to  make  the  walls  of  a  prison 
bow  down  to  salute  her,  of  a  woman  discreet  enough  to  let 
no  one  suspect  by  whom  she  has  been  sent." 

"A  treasure!"  said  Pellisson;  "you  would  make  a  famous 
present  to  monsieur  the  governor  of  the  conciergerie ! 
Peste  !  monseigneur,  he  might  have  his  head  cut  off;  that 
might  happen;  but  he  would,  before  dying,  have  had  such 
happiness  as  no  man  had  enjoyed  before  him." 

"And  I  add,"  said  Fouquet,  "that  the  concierge  of  the 
Palais  would  not  have  his  head  cut  off,  for  he  would  receive  of 
me  my  horses  to  effect  his  escape,  and  five  hundred  thousand 
livres  wherewith  to  live  comfortably  in  England;  I  add, 
that  this  woman,  my  friend,  would  give  him  nothing  but 
the  horses  and  the  money.  Let  us  go  and  seek  this  woman, 
Pellisson." 

The  surintendant  reached  forth  his  hand  toward  the  gold 
and  silken  cord  placed  in  the  interior  of  his  carriage;  but 
Pellisson  stopped  him.  "Monseigneur,"  said  he,  "you  are 
going  to  los'e  as  much  time  in  seeking  this  woman  as  Col- 
umbus took  to  discover  the  new  world.  Now,  we  have  but 
two  hours  in  which  we  can  possibly  succeed;  the  concierge 
once  gone  to  bed,  how  shall  we  get  at  him  without  making 
a  disturbance?  When  daylight  dawns,  how  can  we  conceal 
our  proceedings?  Go,  go  yourself,  monseigneur,  and  dc 
not  seek  either  woman  or  an  angel  to-night." 

"But,  my  dear  Pellisson,  here  we  are  before  her  door." 

"What!  before  the  angel's  door." 

"Why,  yes." 

"This  is  the  hotel  of  Madame  de  Belliere?" 

"Hush!" 


386  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONXE, 

"'Ah!  Good  Lord!"  exclaimed  Pellisson. 

"What  have  you  to  say  against  her!'''' 

"Nothing,  alas!  and  it  is  that  which  creates  my  despair. 
Nothing,  absolutely  nothing.  Why  can  I  not,  on  the  con- 
trary,  say  ill  enough  of  her  to  prevent  your  going  to  her?" 

But  Fouquet  had  already  given  orders  to  stop,  and  the 
carriage  was  motionless. 

"Prevent  me!"  cried  Fouquet;  "why,  no  power  on  earth 
should   prevent  my  going  to  pay  my  compliments  to  Ma 
dame  de  Plessis-Belliere;  besides,  who  knows  that  we  shall 
not  stand  in  need  of  her?" 

"No,  monseigneur,  no!" 

"But  [  do  not  wish  you  to  wait  for  me,  Pellisson,"  re- 
plied Fouquet,  with  sincere  courtesy. 

"The  greater  reason  why  I  should,  monseigneur;  know- 
ing that  you  are  keeping  me  waiting,  you  will,  perhaps, 
stay  a  shorter  time.  Take  care!  You  see  there  is  a  car- 
riage in  the  courtyard;  she  has  some  one  with  her." 

Fouquet  leaned  toward  the  steps  of  the  carriage. 

"One  word  more,"  cried  Pellisson;  "do  not  go  to  this 
lady  till  you  have  been  to  the  concierge,  for  heaven's  sake!" 

"Eh!  five  minutes,  Pellisson,"  replied  Fouquet,  alight- 
ing at  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  leaving  Pellisson  in  the  car- 
riage, in  a  very  ill-humor. 

Fouquet  ran  upstairs,  told  his  name  to  the  footman, 
which  excited  an  eagerness  and  a  respect  that  showed  the 
habit  the  mistress  of  the  house  had  of  honoring  that  name 
in  her  family. 

"Monsieur  le  Surintendant,"  cried  the  marquise,  advanc- 
ing, very  pale,  to  meet  him;  "what  an  honor!  what  an  un- 
expected pleasure!"  said  she.  Then,  in  a  low  voice,  "Take 
care!"  added  the  marquise,  "Marguerite  Vanel  is  here." 

"Madame,"  replied  Fouquet,  rather  agitated,  "I  came 
upon  business.     One  single  word,  in  haste,  if  you  please." 

And  he  entered  the  salon.  Mine.  Vanel  had  risen,  more 
pale,  more  livid  than  Envy  herself.  Fouquet  in  vain  ad- 
dressed her  with  the  most  agreeable,  most  pacific  salutation; 
she  only  replied  by  a  terrible  glance  darted  at  the  marquise 
and  Fouquet.  This  keen  glance  of  a  jealous  woman  is  a 
stiletto  which  pierces  every  cuirass;  Marguerite  Vanel 
plunged  it  straight  into  the  hearts  of  the  two  confidants. 
She  made  a  courtesy  to  her  friend,  a  more  profound  one  to 
Fouquet,  and  took  leave,  under  pretense  of  having  a  great 
number  of  visits  to  make,  without  the  marquise  trying  to 
prevont  her,  or  Fouquet,  a  prey  to  anxiety,  thinking  any- 


THE   VICOMTE    DE  BRAGELONNE.  387 

thing  about  her.  She  was  scarcely  out  of  the  room,  and 
Fouquet  left  alone  with  the  marquise,  before  he  threw  him- 
self on  his  knees  without  saying  a  word. 

"I  expected  you,"  said  the  marquise,  with  a  tender  sigh. 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  he,  "or  you  would  have  sent  away  that 
woman." 

"She  has  been  here  little  more  than  half  an  hour,  and  I 
had  no  suspicion  she  would  come  this  evening." 

"You  do  love  me  a  little,  then,  marquise?" 

"That  is  not  the  question  now;  it  is  of  your  dangers. 
How  are  your  affairs  going  on?" 

"I  am  going  this  evening  to  get  my  friends  out  of  the 
prisons  of  the  Palais." 

"How  will  you  do  that?" 

"By  buying  and  seducing  the  governor." 

"He  is  a  friend  of  mine;  can  I  assist  you,  without  injur- 
ing you?" 

"Oh,  marquise,  it  would  be  a  sigual  service;  but  how  can 
you  be  employed  without  your  being  compromised?  Now, 
never  shall  my  life,  my  power,  or  even  my  liberty,  be  pur- 
chased at  the  expense  of  a  single  tear  from  your  eyes,  or  of 
a  single  pain  upon  your  brow." 

"Monseigneur,  speak  no  more  such  words,  they  bewilder 
me;  I  have  been  culpable  in  trying  to  serve  you,  without 
calculating  the  extent  of  what  I  was  doing.  I  love  you  in 
reality,  as  a  tender  friend,  and  as  a  friend  I  am  grateful 
for  your  delicate  attentions;  but,  alas!  alas!  you  will  never 
find  a  mistress  in  me." 

"Marquise!"  cried  Fouquet,  in  a  tone  of  despair,  "why 
not?" 

"Because  you  are  too  much  beloved,"  said  the  young 
woman  in  a  low  vo^ce;  "because  you  are  too  much  beloved 
by  too  many  people — because  the  splendor  of  glory  and 
fortune  wound  my  eyes,  while  the  darkness  of  sorrow  at- 
tracts them;  because,  in  short,  I,  who  have  repulsed  you  in 
your  proud  magnificence,  I,  who  scarcely  looked  at  you  in 
your  splendor,  I  came,  like  a  mad  woman,  to  throw  myself, 
as  it  were,  into  your  arms  when  I  saw  a  misfortune  hovering 
over  your  head.  You  understand  me  now,  monseigneur? 
Become  happy  again,  that  I  may  again  become  chaste  in 
heart  and  in  thought;  your  misfortune  would  ruin  me!" 

"Oh,  madame,"  said  Fouquet,  with  an  emotion  he  had 
never  before  felt,  "were  I  to  fall  to  the  last  degree  of 
human  misery,  and  should  hear  from  your  mouth  that  word 
which  you  now  refuse  me,  that  day,  madame,  you  will  be 


388  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOJOTE. 

mistaken  in  your  noble  egotism;  that  day  you  will  fancy  /ou 
are  consoling  the  most  unfortunate  of  men,  and  you  will 
have  said,  'I  love  you'  to  the  most  illustrious,  the  most  de- 
lighted, the  most  triumphant  of  the  happy  beings  of  this 
world." 

He  was  still  at  her  feet,  kissing  her  hand,  when  Pellisson 
entered  precipitately,  crying,  in  very  ill-humor: 

"Monseigneur!  madame!  for  heaven's  sake,  excuse  me. 
Monseigneur,  you  have  been  here  half  an  hour.  Oh,  do 
not  both  look  at  me  so  reproachfully.  Madame,  pray  who 
is  that  lady  who  left  your  house  soon  after  monseigneur 
came  in?" 

"Madame  Vanel,"  said  Fouquet. 

"There!"  cried  Pellisson,  "I  was  sure  of  that!" 

''Well,  what  then?" 

"Why,  she  got  into  her  carriage  looking  deathly  pale." 

"What  consequence  is  that  to  me?" 

"Yes,  but  what  she  said  to  her  coachman  is  of  conse- 
quence to  you." 

"What,  good  God!"  cried  the  marquise,  "was  that?" 

"To  Monsieur  Colbert's!"  said  Pellisson,  in  a  hoarse 
voice. 

"Good  heavens!  be  gone,  be  gone,  monseigneur!"  replied 
the  marquise,  pushing  Fouquet  out  of  the  salon,  while  Pel- 
lisson dragged  him  by  the  hand. 

"Am  I,  then,  indeed,"  said  the  surintendant,  "become  a 
child,  to  be  frightened  by  a  shadow?" 

"You  are  a  giant,"  said  the  marquise,  "whom  a  viper  is 
endeavoring  to  bite  at  the  heel." 

Pellisson  continued  to  drag  Fouquet  quite  to  the  carriage. 

"To  the  Palais  at  full  speed!"  cried  Pellisson  to  the 
coachman.  The  horses  set  off  like  lightning;  no  obstacle 
relaxed  their  pace  for  an  instant.  Only,  at  the  Arcade  St. 
Jean,  as  they  were  coming  out  upon  the  Place  de  Greve,  a 
long  file  of  horsemen,  barring  the  narrow  passage,  stopped 
the  carriage  of  the  surintendant.  There  was  no  means  of 
forcing  this  barrier;  it  was  necessary  to  wait  till  the 
mounted  archers  of  the  watch,  for  it  was  they  who  stopped 
the  way,  had  passed  with  the  heavy  carriage  they  were 
escorting,  and  which  ascended  rapidly  toward  the  Place 
Baudoyer.  Fouquet  and  Pellisson  took  no  further  account 
of  this  circumstance  beyond  deploring  the  minute's  delay 
they  had  to  submit  to.  They  entered  the  habitation  of  the 
concierge  du  palais  five  minutes  after. 

That  officer  was  still  walking  about  in  the  front  court 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  3S& 

At  the  name  of  Fouquet,  whispered  in  his  ear  by  Pellisson 
the  governor  eagerly  approached  the  carriage,  and,  hat  in 
hand,  was  profuse  in  his  reverences. 

"What  an  honor  for  me,  monseigneur!"  said  he. 
"One  word,  Monsieur  le  Gouverneur,  will  you  take  the 
trouble  to  get  into  my  carriage?" 

The  officer  placed  himself  opposite  Fouquet  in  the  coach. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Fouquet,  "I  have  a  service  to  ask  of 
you." 

"Speak,  monseigneur." 
'     "A  service  that  will  be  compromising  for  you,  monsieur, 
but  which  will  assure  to  you  forever  my  protection  and  my 
friendship." 

"Were  it  to  cast  myself  into  the  fire  for  you,  monseigneur, 
I  would  do  it." 

"Thai,  is  well,"  said  Fouquet.  "What  I  require  is  much 
more  simple." 

"That  being  so,  monseigneur,  what  is  it?" 

"To  conduct  me  to  the  chamber  of  Messieurs  Lyodot  and 
D'Eymeris." 

"Will  monseigneur  have  the  kindness  to  say  for  what 
purpose?" 

"I  will  tell  you  in  their  presence,  monsieur;  at  the  same 
time  that  I  will  give  you  ample  means  of  palliating  this 
escape." 

"Escape!     Why,  then,  monseigneur  does  not  know?" 

"What?" 

"That  Messrs.  Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris  are  no  longer  here." 

"Since  when?"  cried  Fouquet,  in  great  agitation. 

"About  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"Whither  have  they  gone,  then?" 

"To  Vincennes — to  the  donjon." 

"Who  took  them  from  here?" 

"An  order  from  the  king." 

"Oh,  woe!  woe!"  exclaimed  Fouquet,  striking  his  fore- 
head. "Wroe!"  and  without  saying  a  single  word  more  to 
the  governor,  he  threw  himself  back  in  his  carriage,  despair 
in  his  heart  and  death  on  his  countenance. 

"Well!"  said  Pellisson,  with  great  anxiety. 

"Our  friends  are  lost.  Colbert  is  conveying  them  to  the 
donjon.  It  was  they  who  crossed  our  passage  under  the 
Arcade  St.  Jean." 

Pellisson,  struck  as  with  a  thunderbolt,  made  no  reply. 
With  a  single  reproach  he  would  have  killed  his  master. 

"Where  is  monseigneur  going?"  said  the  footman. 


390  THE   VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOXXE. 

"Home — to  Paris.     You,  Pellisson,  return  to  St.  Mande, 
and  bring  the  Abbe  Fouquet  to  me  within  an  hour.     Be 


gone 


f>- 


CHAPTER    LX. 

PLA  N     OF     B  ATTLE. 

The  night  was  already  far  advanced  when  the  Abb6  Fou- 
quet joined  his  brethren.  Gourville  had  accompanied  him. 
These  three  men,  pale  with  future  events,  resembled  less 
three  powers  of  the  day  than  three  conspirators,  united  by 
one  same  thought  of  violence.  Fouquet  walked  for  a  long 
time,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor,  striking  his  hand 
one  against  the  other.  At  length,  taking  courage,  in  the 
midst  of  a  deep,  long  sigh: 

"Abbe,"  said  he,  "you  were  speaking  to  me  only  to-day 
of  certain  people  you  maintain?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  the  abbe. 

"Tell  me  precisely  who  are  these  people?" 

The  abbe  hesitated. 

"Come,  no  fear;  I  am  not  threatening;  no  romancing, 
for  I  am  not  joking." 

"Since  you  demand  the  truth,  monseigneur,  here  it  is:  I 
have  a  hundred  and  twenty  friends  or  companions  of 
pleasure,  who  are  sworn  to  me  as  the  thief  is  to  the  gallows. " 

"And  you  think  you  can  depend  upon  them?" 

"Entirely." 

"And  you  will  not  compromise  yourself?" 

"I  will  not  even  make  my  appearance." 

"And  are  they  men  of  resolution?" 

"They  would  burn  Paris,  if  I  promised  them  they  should 
not  be  burned  in  turn." 

"The  thing  I  ask  of  you,  abbe,"  said  Fouquet,  wiping 
the  sweat  which  fell  from  his  brow,  "is  to  throw  your  hun- 
dred and  twenty  men  upon  the  people  I  will  point  out  to 
you,  at  a  certain  moment  given — is  it  possible?" 

"It  will  not  be  the  first  time  such  a  thing  has  happened 
to  them,  monseigneur." 

"That  is  well;  but  would  these  bandits  attack  an  armed 
force?" 

"They  are  used  to  that." 

"Then  get  your  hundred  and  twenty  men  together,  abbe." 

"Directly.     But  where?" 


THE   YICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  391 

"On  the  road  to  Vincennes,  to-morrow,  at  two  o'clock 
precisely." 

"To  carry  off  Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris?  There  will  be 
blows  to  be  got." 

"A  number,  no  doubt;  are  you  afraid?" 

"Not  for  myself,  but  for  you." 

"Your  men  will  know,  then,  what  they  have  to  do?" 

"They  are  too  intelligent  not  to  guess  it.  Now,  a  minis- 
ter who  gets  up  a  riot  against  his  king,  exposes  himself " 

"Of  what  importance  is  that  to  you,  I  pray?  Besides,  if 
I  fall,  you  fall  with  me." 

"It  would  then  be  more  prudent,  monsieur,  not  to  stir  in 
the  affair,  and  leave  the  king  to  take  this  little  satisfaction." 

"Think  well  of  this,  abbe:  Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris  at 
Vincennes  are  a  prelude  of  ruin  for  my  house.  1  repeat  it 
--I  arrested,  you  will  be  imprisoned;  I  imprisoned,  you  will 
be  exiled." 

"Monsieur,  I  am  at  your  orders;  have  you  any  to  give 
me?" 

"What  I  told  you:  I  wish  that,  to-morrow,  the  two  finan- 
ciers of  whom  they  mean  to  make  victims,  while  there 
remain  so  many  criminals  unpunished,  should  be  snatched 
from  the  fury  of  my  enemies.  Take  your  measures  accord- 
ingly.    Is  it  possible?" 

"It  is  possible." 

"Describe  your  plan." 

"It  is  of  rich  simplicity.  The  ordinary  guard  at  execu- 
tions consists  of  twelve  archers." 

"There  will  be  a  hundred  to-morrow." 

"I  reckon  so.  I  even  say  more — there  will  be  two 
hundred." 

"Then,  your  hundred  and  twenty  men  will  not  be 
enough." 

"Pardon  me.  In  every  crowd  composed  of  a  hundred 
thousand  spectators,  there  are  ten  thousand  bandits  or  cut- 
purses,  only  they  dare  not  take  the  initiative." 

"Well?" 

"There  will,  then,  be  to-morrow,  on  the  Place  de  Greve, 
which  I  choose  as  my  battlefield,  ten  thousand  auxiliaries 
to  my  hundred  and  twenty  men.  The  attack  commenced 
by  the  latter,  the  others  will  finish  it." 

"That  all  appears  feasible.  But  what  will  be  done  with 
regard  to  the  prisoners  upon  the  Place  de  Greve?" 

"This:  they  must  be  thrust  into  some  house — that  will 
make  a  siege  necessary  to  get  them  out  again.     And — stop; 


392  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXXE. 

here  is  another  idea-,  more  sublime  still:  certain  houses  have 
two  issues — one  upon  the  Place,  and  the  other  into  theRue  de 
la  Mortelleire,  or  La  Yannerie,  or  La  Texeranderie.  The 
prisoners  entering  by  one  door,  will  go  out  at  another." 

"Yes;  but  fix  upon  something  positive." 

"I  am  seeking  to  do  so.;' 

"And  I,"  cried  Fouquet,  "I  have  found  it.  Listen  to 
what  has  occurred  to  me  at  this  moment." 

"I  am  listening." 

Fouquet  made  a  sign  to  Gourville,  who  appeared  to  un- 
derstand. 

"One  of  my  friends  lends  me  sometimes  the  keys  of  a 
house  which  he  rents,  in  the  Place  Baudoyer,  the  spacious 
gardens  of  which  extend  behind  a  certain  house  of  the 
Place  de  Gr£ve." 

"That  is  the  place  for  us,"  said  the  abbe.  "What 
house?" 

"A  cabaret  pretty  well  frequented,  whose  sign  represents 
the  image  of  Notre  Dame." 

"I  know  it,"  said  the  abbe. 

"This  cabaret  has  windows  opening  upon  the  Place,  a 
place  of  exit  into  the  court,  which  must  abut  upon  the 
gardens  of  my  friend  by  a  door  of  communication." 

"Good!"  said  the  abbe. 

"Enter  by  the  cabaret,  take  the  prisoners  in;  defend  the 
door  while  you  enable  them  to  fly  by  the  garden  and  the 
Place  Baudoyer." 

"That  is  all  plain.  Monsieur,  you  would  make  an  excel- 
lent general,  like  Monsieur  le  Prince." 

"Have  you  understood  me?" 

"Perfectly  well." 

"How  much  will  it  amount  to,  to  make  your  bandits  all 
drunk  with  wine,  and  to  satisfy  them  with  gold?" 

"Oh,  monsieur,  what  an  expression!  Oh,  monsieur,  if 
they  heard  you!  some  of  them  are  very  susceptible." 

"I  mean  to  say  they  must  be  brought  no  longer  to  know 
the  heavens  from  the  earth;  for  I  shall  to-morrow  contend 
with  the  king;  and  when  I  fight  I  mean  to  conquer — please 
to  understand." 

"It  shall  be  done,  monsieur.     Give  me  your  other  ideas." 

"That  is  your  business." 

"Then  give  me  your  purse." 

"Gourville,  count  a  hundred  thousand  livres  for  the 
abbe." 

"Good!  and  spare  nothing,  did  you  not  say?" 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BEAGELONKE.  395 

"Nothing." 

"That  is  well." 

"Monseigneur,"  objected  Gourville,  "if  this  should  be 
known  we  should  lose  our  heads." 

"Eh!  Gourville,"  replied  Fouquet,  purple  with  anger, 
"you  excite  my  pity.  Speak  for  yourself,  if  you  please. 
My  head  does  not  shake  in  that  manner  upon  my  shoulders. 
Now,  abbe,  is  everything  arranged?" 

"Everything." 

"At  two  o'clock  to-morrow." 

"At  twelve,  because  it  will  be  necessary  to  prepare  our 
auxiliaries  in  a  secret  manner." 

"That  is  true;  do  not  spare  the  wine  of  the  calaretier." 

"I  will  spare  neither  his  wine  nor  his  house,"  replied  the 
abbe  with  a  sneering  laugh.  "I  have  my  plan,  I  tell  you; 
leave  me  to  set  it  in  operation,  and  you  shall  see." 

"Where  shall  you  be  yourself?" 

"Everywhere;  nowhere." 

"And  how  shall  I  receive  information?" 

"By  a  courier,  whose  horse  shall  be  kept  in  the  very  gar- 
den of  your  friend.     Apropos,  the  name  of  your  friend?" 

Fouquet  looked  again  at  Gourville.  The  latter  came  to 
the  succor  of  his  master,  saying: 

"Accompany  Monsieur  l'Abbe  for  several  reasons,  only 
the  house  is  easily  to  be  known,  the  'Image  de  Notre  Dame' 
in  the  front,  a  garden,  the  only  one  in  the  quarter,  behind." 

"Good,  good!     I  will  go  and  give  notice  to  my  soldiers." 

"Accompany  him,  Gourville,"  said  Fouquet,  "and  count 
him  down  the  money.  One  moment,  abbe — one  moment, 
Gourville;  what  name  will  be  given  to  this  carrying  off?" 

"A  very  natural  one,  monsieur — the  Eiot." 

"The  riot  on  account  of  what?  For,  if  ever  the  people 
of  Paris  are  disposed  to  pay  their  court  to  the  king,  it  is 
when  he  hangs  financiers." 

"I  will  manage  that,"  said  the  abbe. 

"Yes;  but  you  may  manage  it  badly,  and  people  will 
guess." 

"Not  at  all — not  at  all.     I  have  another  idea." 

"What  is  that?" 

"My  men  shall  cry  out,  'Colbert,  vive  Colbert!'  and  shall 
throw  themselves  upon  the  prisoners  as  if  they  would  tear 
them  in  pieces,  and  shall  force  them  from  the  gibbets,  as  too 
mild  a  punishment." 

"Ah!  that  is  an  idea,"  said  Gourville.  "Pestel  Mon- 
sieur l'Abbe,  what  an  imagination  you  have!" 


394:  THE   YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Monsieur,  we  are  worthy  of  our  family,"  replied  the 
abbe  proudly. 

"Strange  fellow!"  murmured  Fouquet.  Then  lie  added: 
"That  is  ingenious.     Carry  it  out,  but  shed  no  blood." 

Gourville  and  the  abbe  set  off  together,  with  their  heads 
full  of  the  meditated  riot.  The  surintendant  laid  himself 
down  upon  some  cushions,  half-valiant  with  respect  to  the 
sinister  projects  of  the  morrow,  half-dreaming  of  love. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

THE  CABARET  OF  THE   IMAGE   DE   NOTRE  DAME. 

At  two  o'clock  the  next  day  fifty  thousand  spectators 
had  taken  their  position  upon  the  Place,  around  the  two 
gibbets  which  had  been  elevated  between  the  Quai  de  la 
Greve  and  the  Quai  Pelletier,  one  close  to  the  other,  with 
their  banks  to  the  parapet  of  the  river.  In  the  morning 
also  all  the  sworn  criers  of  the  good  city  of  Paris  had  trav- 
ersed the  quarters  of  the  city,  particularly  the  halles  and 
the  faubourgs,  announcing,  with  their  hoarse  and  indefa- 
tigable voices,  the  great  justice  done  by  the  king  upon  two 
peculators,  two  thieves,  devourers  of  the  people.  And 
these  people,  whose  interests  were  so  warmly  looked  after, 
in  order  not  to  fail  in  respect  for  their  king,  quitted  shops, 
stalls,  and  ateliers,  to  go  and  evince  a  little  gratitude  to 
Louis  XIV.,  absolutely  like  invited  guests,  who  feared  to 
commit  an  impoliteness  in  not  repairing  to  the  house  of  him 
who  had  invited  them.  According  to  the  tenor  of  the  sen- 
tence, which  the  criers  read  loudly  and  badly,  two  farmers 
of  the  revenues,  monopolists  of  money,  dilapidators  of  the 
royal  provisions,  extortioners,  and  forgers,  were  about  to 
undergo  capital  punishment  on  the  Place  de  Greve,  with 
their  names  affixed  over  their  heads,  according  to  their 
sentence.  As  to  those  names,  the  sentence  made  no  men- 
tion of  them.  The  curiosity  of  the  Parisians  was  at  its 
height,  and,  as  we  have  said,  an  immense  crowd  waited 
with  feverish  impatience  the  hour  fixed  for  the  execution. 
The  news  had  already  spread  that  the  prisoners,  transferred 
to  the  Chateau  of  Vincennes,  would  be  conducted  from 
that  prison  to  the  Place  de  Greve.  Consequently,  the 
faubourg  and  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  were  crowded;  for  the 
population* of  Paris  in  those  days  of  great  executions  was 
divided  into  two  categories :  those  who  came  to  see  the  con- 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONSTB.  395 

demned  pass — these  were  timid  and  mild  hearts,  but  curious 
in  philosophy;  and  those  who  wished  to  see  the  condemned 
die — these  were  of  hearts  desirous  of  emotions.  On  this 
day  M.  d'Artagnan  received  his  last  instructions  from  the 
king,  and  made  his  adieus  to  his  friends,  the  number  of 
whom  was,  at  the  moment,  reduced  to  Pianchet,  traced  the 
plan  of  his  day,  as  every  busy  man  whose  moments  are 
counted  ought  to  do,  because  he  appreciates  their  impor- 
tance. 

"My  departure  is  to  be,"  said  he,  "at  break  of  day,  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning;  I  have,  then,  fifteen  hours  before 
me.  Take  from  them  the  six  hours  of  sleep  which  are  in- 
dispensable for  me — six;  one  hour  for  repasts — seven;  one 
hour  for  a  farewell  visit  to  Athos — eight;  two  hours  for 
chance  circumstances — total,  ten.  There  are,  then,  five 
hours  left.  One  hour  to  get  my  money — that  is,  to  have 
payment  refused  by  Monsieur  Fouquet;  another  hour  to  go 
and  receive  my  money  of  Monsieur  Colbert,  together  with 
his  questions  and  grimaces;  one  hour  to  look  over  my  clothes 
and  my  arms,  and  get  my  boots  cleaned.  I  have  still  two 
hours  left.  Mordioux!  how  rich  I  am!"  And  so  saying, 
D'Artagnan  felt  a  strange  joy,  a  joy  of  youth,  a  perfume  of 
those  great  and  happy  years  of  former  times  mount  into 
his  brain  and  intoxicate  him.  "During  these  two  hours  I 
will  go,"  said  the  musketeer,  "and  take  my  quarter's  rent 
of  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame.  That  will  be  pleasant. 
Three  hundred  and  seventy-five  livres.  Mordioux !  but 
that  is  astonishing.  If  the  poor  man  who  has  but  one  livre 
in  his  pocket  found  a  livre  and  twelve  deniers,  that  would 
be  justice,  that  would  be  excellent;  but  never  does  such  a 
godsend  fall  to  the  lot  of  the  poor  man.  The  rich  man,  on 
the  contrary,  makes  himself  revenues  with  his  money, 
which  he  does  not  touch.  Here  are  three  hundred  and 
seventy-five  livres  which  fall  to  me  from  heaven.  I  will  go, 
then,  to  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame,  and  drink  a  glass  of 
Spanish  wine  with  my  tenant,  which  he  cannot  fail  to  offer 
me.  But  order  must  be  observed,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan, 
order  must  be  observed.  Let  us  organize  our  time  then, 
and  distribute  the  employment  of  it.  Art.  1st,  Athos;  Art. 
2d,  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame;  Art.  3d,  Monsieur  Fouquet; 
Art.  4th,  Monsieur  Colbert;  Art.  5th,  supper;  Art.  6th, 
clothes,  boots/  horse,  portmanteau;  Art.  7th  and  last, 
sleep." 

In  consequence  of  this  arrangement,  D'Artagnan  then 
went  straight  to  the  Comte  de   la  Fere,  to  whom,  modestly 


396  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

and  ingenuously,  he  related  a  part  of  his  fortunate  adven- 
tures. Athos  had  not  been  without  uneasiness  on  the  sub- 
ject of  D'Artagnan's  visit  to  the  king;  but  few  words 
sufficed  as  an  explanation  of  that.  Athos  divined  that 
Louis  had  charged  D'Artagnan  with  some  important  mis- 
sion, and  did  not  even  make  an  effort  to  draw  the  secret  from 
him.  He  only  recommended  him  to  take  care  of  himself, 
and  offered  discreetly  to  accompany  him,  if  that  were 
desirable. 

"But,  my  dear  friend,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  am  going 
nowhere." 

"What!  you  come  and  bid  me  adieu,  and  are  going 
nowhere?" 

"Oh!  yes,  yes,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  coloring  a  little;  "I 
am  going  to  make  an  acquisition." 

"That  is  quite  another  thing.  Then,  I  change  my  for- 
mula. Instead  of,  'Do  not  get  yourself  killed,'  I  will  say, 
'Do  not  get  yourself  robbed.'  " 

"My  friend,  I  will  inform  you  if  I  cast  my  eye  upon  any 
property  that  pleases  me,  and  shall  expect  you  will  favor 
me  with  your  opinion." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Athos,  too  delicate  to  commit  himself 
even  the  consolation  of  a  smile. 

Eaoul  imitated  the  paternal  reserve.  But  D'Artagnan 
thought  it  would  appear  too  mysterious  to  leave  his  friends 
under  a  pretense,  without  even  telling  them  the  route  he 
was  about  to  take. 

"I  have  chosen  Le  Mans,"  said  he  to  Athos.  "Is  it  a 
good  country?" 

"Excellent,  my  friend,"  replied  the  comte,  without  mak- 
ing him  observe  that  Le  Mans  was  in  the  same  direction  as 
La  Touraine,  and  that  by  waiting  two  days,  at  mos':,  he 
might  travel  with  a  friend.  But  D'Artagnan,  more  embar- 
rassed than  the  comte,  dug,  at  every  explanation,  deeper 
into  the  mud,  into  which  he  sank  by  degrees.  "I  shall  set 
out  to-morrow  at  daybreak,"  said  he,  at  last.  "Till  that 
time,  will  you  come  with  me,  Eaoul?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  said  the  young  man,  "if 
Monsieur  le  Comte  does  not  want  me." 

"No,  Eaoul;  I  am  to  have  an  audience  to-day  '  l  Mon- 
sieur, the  king's  brother;  that  is  all  I  have  to  do." 

Eaoul  asked  Grimaud  for  his  sword,  which  thp  >ld  man 
brought  him  immediately. 

"Now,  then,"  added  D'Artagnan,  opening  hh  arms  to 
Athos,  "adieu,  my  dear  friend." 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   ERAGELONtfE.  3$7 

Athos  held  him  in  a  long  embrace,  and  the  musketeer, 
who  knew  his  discretion  so  well,  murmured  in  his  ear,  "An 
affair  of  state,"  to  which  Athos  only  replied  by  a  pressure 
of  the  hand  still  more  significant.  They  then  separated. 
Raoul  took  the  arm  of  his  old  friend,  who  led  him  along 
the  Rue  St.  Honore. 

"I  am  conducting  you  to  the  abode  of  the  god  Plutus," 
said  D'Artagnan  to  the  young  man;  "prepare  yourself. 
The  whole  day  you  will  witness  the  piling  up  of  crowns. 
Good  God!  how  I  am  changed!" 

"Oh,  oh!  what  numbers  of  people  there  are  in  the  street!" 
said  Eaoul. 

"Is  there  a  procession  to-day?"  asked  D'Artagnan  of  a 
passer-by. 

"Monsieur,  it  is  a  hanging,"  replied  the  man. 

"What!  a  hanging  at  the  Greve?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Devil  take  the  rogue  who  gets  himself  hung  the  day  I 
want  to  go  and  take  my  rent!"  cried  D'Artagnan.  "Raoul, 
did  you  ever  see  anybody  hung?" 

"Never,  monsieur — thank  God!" 

"Oh,  how  young  that  sounds!  If  you  were  on  guard  in 
the  trenches,  as  I  was,  and  a  spy —  But,  look  you,  pardon 
me,  Raoul,  I  am  doting — you  are  quite  right,  it  is  a  hideous 
sight  to  see  a  person  hung.  At  what  hour  do  they  hang, 
monsieur,  if  you  please?" 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  stranger  respectfully,  delighted 
at  joining  conversation  with  two  men  of  the  sword,  "it  will 
take  place  about  three  o'clock." 

"Oh!  oh!  it  is  now  only  half-past  one;  let  us  step  out; 
we  shall  be  there  in  time  to  touch  my  three  hundred  and 
seventy-five  livres,  and  get  away  before  the  arrival  of  the 
malefactor." 

"Malefactors,  monsieur,"  continued  the  bou  geois; 
'there  are  two  of  them." 

"Monsieur,  I  return  you  many  thanks,"  said  D'Artag- 
nan, who,  as  he  grew  older,  had  become  polite  to  a  degree. 
Drawing  Raoul  along,  he  directed  his  course  rapidly  in  the 
direction  of  La  Greve.  Without  that  great  experience 
musketeers  have  of  a  crowd,  to  which  were  joined  an  irre- 
sistible strength  of  wrist  and  an  uncommon  suppleness  of 
shoulders,  our  two  travelers  would  not  have  arrived  at  their 
place  of  destination.  They  followed  the  line  of  the  Quai, 
which  they  had  gained  on  quitting  the  Rue  St.  Honore, 
where  they  left  Athos.     D'Artagnan  went  first;  his  elbow, 


398  THE   VICOMTE   V>V.   BBAGELOBTNE. 

his  wrist,  his  shoulder  formed  three  wedges  which  he  knew 
how  to  insinuate  with  skill  into  the  groups,  to  make  them 
split  and  separate  like  pieces  of  wood.  He  often  made  use 
of  the  hilt  of  his  sword  as  an  additional  help;  introducing 
it  between  ribs  that  were  too  rebellious,  making  it  take  the 
part  of  a  lever  or  crowbar,  to  separate  husband  from  wife, 
uncle  from  nephew,  and  brother  from  brother.  And  all 
this  was  done  so  naturally,  and  with  such  gracious  smiles, 
that  people  must  have  had  ribs  of  bronze  not  to  cry  "Thank 
you''  when  the  wrist  made  its  play,  or  hearts  of  diamonds 
not  to  be  enchanted  when  the  bland  smile  enlivened  the  lips 
of  the  musketeer.  Raoul,  following  his  friend,  cajoled  the 
women  who  admired  his  beauty,  pushed  back  the  men,  who 
felt  the  rigidity  of  his  muscles,  and  both  opened,  thanks  to 
these  maneuvers,  the  rather  compact  and  rather  muddy 
tide  of  the  populace.  They  arrived  in  sight  of  the  two 
gibbets,  from  which  Raoul  turned  away  his  eyes  in  disgust. 
As  for  D'Artagnan,  he  did  not  even  see  them:  his  house, 
with  its  gabled  roof,  its  windows  crowded  with  the  curious, 
attracted  and  even  absorbed  all  the  attention  he  was  capa- 
ble of.  He  distinguished  in  the  Place  and  around  the 
houses  a  good  number  of  musketeers  on  leave,  who,  some 
with  women,  others  with  friends,  awaited  the  moment  of 
the  ceremony.  What  rejoiced  him  above  all  was  to  see  that 
his  tenant,  the  cabaretier,  was  so  busy  he  did  not  know 
which  way  to  turn  himself.  Three  lads  could  not  supply 
the  drinkers.  They  filled  the  shop,  the  chambers,  and  the 
court  even.  D'Artagnan  called  Raoul's  attention  to  this 
concourse,  adding: 

"The  fellow  will  have  no  excuse  for  not  paying  his  rent. 
Look  at  those  drinkers,  Raoul,  one  would  say  they  were 
jolly  companions!  Mordioux  !  why,  there  is  no  room  any- 
where!" 

D'Artagnan,  however,  contrived  to  catch  hold  of  the 
master  by  the  corner  of  his  apron,  and  to  make  himself 
known  to  him. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  said  the  cabaretier,  half 
muzzy,  "one  minute,  if  you  please.  I  have  here  a  hundred 
mad  devils  turning  my  cellar  upside  down." 

"The  cellar,  if  you  like,  but  not  the  money-box." 

"Oh,  monsieur,  your  thirty-seven  and  a  half  pistoles  are 
all  counted  out  ready  for  you  upstairs  in  my  chamber;  but 
there  are  in  that  chamber  thirty  customers,  who  are  suck- 
ing the  staves  of  a  little  barrel  of  Oporto  which  I  tapped 
for  them  this  morning.     Give  me  a  minute — only  a  minute.  :' 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    RKAOELONNE.  399 

"So  be  it,  so  be  it!'' 

"I  will  go,"  said  Eaoul,  in  a  low  voice,  to  D'Artagnan; 
"this  hilarity  is  vile." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  D'Artagnan  sternly,  "you  will 
please  to  remain  where  you  are.  The  soldier  ought  to 
familiarize  himself  with  all  kinds  of  spectacles.  There  are 
in  the  eye,  when  it  is  young,  fibers  which  we  must  learn 
how  to  harden;  and  we  are  not  truly  generous  and  good 
but  from  the  moment  when  the  eye  has  become  hardened 
and  the  heart  remains  tender.  Besides,  my  little  Eaoul, 
would  you  leave  me  alone  here?  That  would  be  very  ill  of 
you.  Look!  there  is  yonder  in  the  lower  court  a  tree,  and 
under  the  shade  of  that  tree  we  shall  breathe  more  freely 
than  in  this  hot  atmosphere  of  spilled  wine." 

From  the  spot  on  which  they  had  placed  themselves  the 
two  new  guests  of  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame  heard  the 
ever-increasing  murmurs  of  the  tide  of  people,  and  lost 
neither  a  cry  nor  a  gesture  of  the  drinkers,  at  tables,  in  the 
cabaret,  or  disseminated  in  the  chambers.  If  D'Artagnan 
had  wished  to  place  himself  as  a  vidette  for  an  expedition, 
he  could  not  have  succeeded  better.  The  tree  under  which 
he  and  Eaoul  were  seated  covered  them  with  its  already 
thick  foliage;  it  was  a  low,  thick  chestnut-tree,  with  in- 
clined branches,  which  cast  their  shade  over  a  table  so 
broken  that  the  drinkers  had  abandoned  it.  We  said  that 
from  this  post  D'Artagnan  saw  everything.  He  observed 
the  goings  and  comings  of  the  waiters;  the  arrival  of  fresh 
drinkers;  the  welcome,  sometimes  friendly,  sometimes 
hostile,  given  to  certain  newcomers  by  certain  others  that 
were  installed.  He  observed  all  this  to  amuse  himself,  for 
the  thirty-seven  and  a  half  pistoles  were  a  long  time  com- 
ing.    Eaoul  recalled  his  attention  to  it. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "you  do  not  hurry  your  tenant, 
and  the  condemned  will  soon  be  here.  There  will  then  be 
such  a  press  we  shall  not  be  able  to  get  out." 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  musketeer.  "Bola!  oh,  some- 
body there!     Mordioux!" 

But  it  was  in  vain  he  cried  and  knocked  upon  the  wreck 
of  the  old  table,  which  fell  to  pieces  beneath  his  fist;  no- 
body came.  D'Artagnan  was  preparing  to  go  and  seek  the 
cabaretier  himself,  to  force  him  to  a  definite  explanation, 
when  the  door  of  the  court  in  which  he  was  with  Eaoul,  a 
door  which  communicated  with  the  garden  situated  at  the 
back,  opened,  and  a  man  dressed  as  a  cavalier,  with  his 
sword  in  the  sheath,  but  not  at  his  belt,  crossed  the  court 


400  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNB. 

without  closing  the  door;  and  having  cast  an  oblique  glance 
at  D:Artagnan  and  his  companion,  directed  his  course 
toward  the  cabaret  itself,  looking  about  in  all  directions 
with  his  eyes  capable  of  piercing  walls  of  consciences. 

"Humph!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "my  tenants  are  communi- 
cating. That,  no  doubt,  now,  is  some  amateur  in  hanging 
matters." 

At  the  same  moment  the  cries  and  disturbance  in  the 
upper  chambers  ceased.  Silence,  under  such  circumstances, 
surprises  more  than  a  twofold  increase  of  noise.  D'Artag- 
nan wished  to  see  what  was  the  cause  of  this  sudden  silence. 
He  then  perceived  that  this  man,  dressed  as  a  cavalier,  had 
just  entered  the  principal  chamber,  and  was  haranguing 
the  tiplers,  who  all  listened  to  him  with  the  greatest  atten- 
tion. D'Artagnan  would,  perhaps,  have  heard  his  speech 
but  for  the  dominant  noise  of  tne  popular  clamors,  which 
made  a  formidable  accompaniment  to  the  harangue  of  the 
orator.  But  it  was  soon  finished,  and  all  the  people  the 
cabaret  contained  came  out,  one  after  the  other,  in  little 
groups,  so  that  there  only  remained  six  in  the  chamber; 
one  of  these  six,  the  man  with  the  sword,  took  the  cabaretier 
aside,  engaging  him  in  discourse  more  or  less  serious,  while 
the  others  lighted  a  great  fire  in  the  chimney-place — a  cir- 
cumstance rendered  strange  by  the  fine  weather  and  the 
heat. 

"It  is  very  singular,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  Raoul,  "but  I 
think  I  know  those  faces  yonder." 

"Don't  you  think  you  can  smell  the  smoke  here?"  said 
Raoul. 

"I  rather  think  I  can  smell  a  conspiracy?"  replied  D'Ar- 
tagnan. 

He  had  not  finished  speaking,  when  four  of  these  men 
came  down  into  the  court,  and  without  the  appearance  of 
any  bad  design,  mounted  guard  at  the  door  of  communica- 
tion, casting,  at  intervals,  glances  at  D'Artagnan,  which 
signified  many  things. 

" Mordioux /"  said  D'Artagnan  in  alow  voice,  "there  is 
something  going  on.     Are  you  curious,  Raoul?" 

"According  to  the  subject,  chevalier." 

"Well,  I  am  as  curious  as  an  old  woman.  Come  a  little 
more  in  front;  Ave  shall  get  a  better  view  of  the  place.  I 
would  lay  a  wager  that  view  will  be  something  curious." 

"But  you  know,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  that  I  am  not 
willing  to  become  a  passive  and  indifferent  spectator  of  the 
ivHth  of  the  two  poor  devile  ' 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BKaGELONKE.  401 

"And  I,  then — do  you  think  I  am  a  savage?  We  will  go 
in  again,  when  it  is  time  to  do  so.     Come  along!" 

And  they  made  their  way  toward  the  front  of  the  house, 
and  placed  themselves  near  the  window  which,  still  more 
strangely  than  the  rest,  remained  unoccupied.  The  two 
last  drinkers,  instead  of  looking  out  at  this  window,  kept 
up  the  fire.     On  seeing  D'Artagnan  and  his  friend  enter: 

"Ah!  ah!  a  reinforcement!"  murmured  they. 

D'Artagnan  jogged  Raoul's  elbow. 

"Yes,  my  braves,  a  reinforcement,"  said  he.  "Cordieu  ! 
there  is  a  famous  fire.     Whom  are  you  going  to  cook?" 

The  two  men  uttered  a  shout  of  jovial  laughter,  and  in- 
stead of  answering  threw  on  more  wood.  D'Artagnan 
could  not  take  his  eyes  off  them. 

"I  suppose,"  said  one  of  the  fire-makers,  "they  sent  you 
to  tell  us  the  time — have  they  not?" 

"Without  doubt  they  have,"  said  D'Artagnan,  anxious 
to  know  what  was  going  on;  "why  should  I  be  here  else,  if 
it  were  not  for  that?" 

"Then  place  yourself  at  the  window,  if  you  please,  and 
observe." 

D'Artagnan  smiled  in  his  mustache,  made  a  sign  to 
Raoul,  and  placed  himself  at  the  window. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

vive  Colbert! 

The  spectacle  which  the  Greve  now  presented  was  a  tright- 
ful  one.  The  heads,  leveled  by  the  perspective,  extended 
afar,  thick  and  agitated  as  the  ears  of  corn  in  a  vast  plain. 
From  time  to  time  a  fresh  report,  or  a  distant  rumor,  made 
the  heads  oscillate  and  thousand  of  eyes  flash.  Now  and 
then  there  were  great  movements.  All  those  ears  of  corn 
bent,  and  became  waves  more  agitated  than  those  of  the 
ocean,  which  rolled  from  the  extremities  to  the  center,  and 
beat,  like  the  tides,  against  the  hedge  of  archers  who  sur- 
rounded the  gibbets.  Then  the  handles  of  the  halberds 
were  let  fall  upon  the  heads  and  shoulders  of  the  rash  in' 
vaders;  at  times,  also,  it  was  the  steel  as  well  as  the  wood, 
and,  in  that  case,  a  large  empty  circle  was  formed  around 
the  guard;  a  space  conquered  upon  the  extremities,  which 
underwent,  in  their  turn,  the  oppression  of  the  sudden 
movement,  which  drove  them  against  the  parapets  of  th» 


402  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

Seine.  From  the  window  that  commanded  a  view  of  the 
whole  Place,  D'Artagnan  saw,  with  interior  satisfaction, 
that  such  of  the  musketeers  and  guards  as  found  themselves 
involved  in  the  crowd  were  able,  with  blows  of  their  lists 
and  the  hilts  of  their  swords,  to  keep  room.  He  even  re- 
marked that  they  had  succeeded,  by  that  esprit  de  corps 
which  doubles  the  strength  of  the  soldier,  in  getting  to- 
gether in  one  group  to  the  amount  of  about  fifty  men;  and 
that,  with  the  exception  of  a  dozen  stragglers  whom  he  still 
saw  rolling  here  and  there,  the  nucleus  was  complete,  and 
within  reach  of  his  voice.  But  it  was  not  the  musketeers 
and  guards  only  that  drew  the  attention  of  D'Artagnan. 
Around  the  gibbets,  and  particularly  at  the  entrances  to 
the  Arcade  of  St.  Jean,  moved  a  noisy  mass,  a  busy  mass; 
daring  faces,  resolute  demeanors  were  to  be  seen  here  and 
there,  mingled  with  silly  faces  and  indifferent  demeanors; 
signals  were  exchanged,  hands  given  and  taken.  D'Artag- 
nan remarked  among  the  groups,  and  those  groups  the  most 
animated,  the  face  of  the  cavalier  whom  he  had  seen  enter 
by  the  door  of  communication  from  his  garden,  and  who 
had  gone  upstairs  to  harangue  the  drinkers.  That  man 
was  organizing  troops  and  giving  orders. 

"Mordioux!"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "I  was  not 
deceived;  I  know  that  man — it  is  Menneville.  What  the 
devil  is  he  doing  here?" 

A  distant  murmur,  which  became  more  distinct  by  de- 
grees, stopped  this  reflection,  and  drew  his  attention  an- 
other way.  This  murmur  was  occasioned  by  the  arrival  of 
the  culprits;  a  strong  picket  of  archers  preceded  them,  and 
appeared  at  the  angle  of  the  arcade.  The  whole  entire 
crowd  now  joined  as  if  in  one  cry;  all  the  cries  united 
formed  one  immense  how!.  D'Artagnan  saw  Raoul  was  be- 
coming pale,  and  he  slapped  him  roughly  on  the  shoulder. 
The  fire-keepers  turned  round  on  hearing  the  great  cry, 
and  asked  what  was  going  on. 

"The  condemned  are  arrived,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"That's  well,"  replied  they,  again  replenishing  the  fire. 

D'Artagnan  looked  at  them  with  much  uneasiness;  it  was 
evident  that  these  men,  who  were  making  such  a  fire,  for  no 
apparent  purpose,  had  some  strange  intentions.  The  con- 
demned appeared  upon  the  Place.  They  were  walking,  the 
executioner  before  them,  while  fifty  archers  formed  a  hedge 
on  their  right  and  their  left.  Both  were  dressed  in  black; 
they  appeared  pale,  but  firm.  They  looked  impatiently 
over  the  people's  heads,  standing  on  tiptoe  at  every  step. 
D'Artagnan  remarked  this. 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELOJO'E.  403 

"Mordioux  !"  cried  he,  "they  are  in  a  great  hurry  to  get 
a  sight  of  the  gibbet!" 

Kaoul  drew  back,  without,  however,  having  the  power  to 
leave  the  window.     Terror  even  has  its  attractions. 

"To  the  death!  to  the  death!"  cried  fifty  thousand  voices. 

"Yes;  to  the  death!"  howled  a  hundred  frantic  others 
as  if  the  gneat  mass  had  given  them  the  reply. 

"To  the  halter!  to  the  halter!"  cried  the  great  whole. 
"  Vive  le  Roi  /" 

"Well,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "this  is  droll;  I  should  have 
thought  it  was  Monsieur  Colbert  who  had  caused  them  to 
be  hung." 

There  was,  at  this  moment,  a  great  rolling  movement  in 
the  crowd,  which  stopped  for  a  moment  the  march  of  the 
condemned.  The  people  of  a  bold  and  resolute  mien,  whom 
D'Artagnan  had  observed,  by  dint  of  pressing,  pushing,  and 
lifting  themselves  up,  had  succeeded  in  almost  touching 
the  hedge  of  archers.  The  cortege  resumed  its  march.  All 
at  once,  to  cries  of  "  Vive  Colbert!"  those  men  of  whom 
D'Artagnan  never  lost  sight,  fell  upon  the  escort,  which  in 
vain  endeavored  to  stand  against  them.  Behind  these  men 
was  the  crowd.  Then  commenced,  amid  a  frightful  tumult, 
as  frightful  a  confusion.  This  time  there  was  something 
more  than  cries  of  expectation  or  cries  of  joy,  there  were 
cries  of  pain.  Halberds  struck  men  down,  swords  ran  them 
through,  muskets  were  discharged  at  them.  The  confusion 
became  then  so  great  that  D'Artagnan  could  no  longer  dis- 
tinguish anything.  Then,  from  this  chaos,  suddenly  surged 
something  like  a  visible  intention,  like  a  will  pronounced. 
The  condemned  had  been  torn  from  the  hands  of  the 
guards,  and  were  being  dragged  toward  the  house  of 
l'lmage  de  Notre  Dame.  Those  who  dragged  them  shouted. 
"  Vive  Colbert!"  The  people  hesitated,  not  knowing  whic': 
they  ought  to  fall  upon,  the  archers  or  the  aggressors 
What  stopped  the  people  was,  that  those  who  cried  "  Vive 
Colbert!"  began  to  cry,  at  the  same  time,  "No  halter!  no 
halter!  To  the  fire!  to  the  fire!  Burn  the  thieves!  burn 
the  extortioners!"  This  cry,  shouted  with  an  ensemble, 
obtained  enthusiastic  success.  The  populace  had  come  to 
witness  an  execution,  and  here  was  an  opportunity  offered 
them  of  performing  one  themselves.  It  was  this  that  must 
be  most  agreeable  to  the  populace;  therefore,  they  ranged 
themselves  immediately  on  the  party  of  the  aggressors 
against  the  archers,  crying  with  the  minority,  which  had 
become,  thanks  to  them,  the  most  compact  majority. 
"Yes,  yes;  to  the  fire  witli  the  tiiieves!     Vive  Colbert!" 


404  THE   VI'JOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

" Mordioux  /"  exclaimed  D'Artagnan,  "this  begins  to  look 
serious." 

One  of  the  men  who  remained  near  the  chimney  ap- 
proached the  window,  a  firebrand  in  his  hand.  ''Ah,  ah!" 
said  he,  "it  gets  warm."  Then,  turning  to  his  companion, 
"There  is  the  signal,"  added  he;  and  he  immediately  ap- 
plied the  burning  brand  to  the  wainscoting.  Now,  this 
cabaret  of  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame  was  not  a  very  newly 
.built  house;  and,  therefore,  did  not  require  much  entreat- 
ing to  take  fire.  In  a  second  the  boards  began  to  crackle, 
and  the  flames  arose,  sparkling,  to  the  ceiling.  A  howling 
from  without  replied  to  the  shouts  of  the  incendiaries. 
D'Artagnan,  who  had  not  seen  what  passed,  from  being 
engaged  at  the  window,  felt,  at  the  same  time,  the  smoke 
which  choked  him  and  the  fire  that  scorched  him. 

"Hola!"  cried  he,  turning  round,  "is  the  fire  here?  Are 
you  drunk  or  mad,  my  masters?" 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  with  an  air  of  astonish- 
ment. 

"In  what?"  asked  the-y  of  D'Artagnan.  "Was  it  not  a 
thing  agreed  upon?" 

"A  thing  agreed  upon  that  you  should  burn  my  house!" 
vociferated  D'Artagnan,  snatching  the  brand  from  the  hand 
of  the  incendiary,  and  striking  him  with  it  across  the  face. 
The  second  wanted  to  assist  his  comrade,  but  Eaoul,  seiz- 
ing him  by  the  middle,  threw  him  out  of  the  wfindow,  while 
D'Artagnan  pushed  his  man  down  the  stairs.  Raoul,  first 
disengaged,  tore  the  burning  wainscoting  down,  and  threw 
it  flaming  into  the  chamber.  At  a  glance,  D'Artagnan  saw 
there  was  nothing  to  be  feared  from  the  fire,  and  sprang  to 
the  window.  The  disorder  was  at  its  height.  The  air  was 
filled  with  simultaneous  cries  of  "To  the  fire!"  "To  the 
death!"  "To  the  halter!"  "To  the  stake!"  "Vive  Col- 
bert!" "  Vive  le  Rot  !"  The  group  which  had  forced  the 
culprits  from  the  hands  of  the  archers  had  drawn  close  to 
the  house,  which  appeared  to  be  the  goal  toward  which  they 
dragged  them.  Menneville  was  at  the  head  of  this  group, 
shouting  louder  than  all  the  others,  "To  the  fire!  to  the 
fire!  Vive  Colbert!"  D'Artagnan  began  to  comprehend 
what  was  meant.  They  wanted  to  burn  the  condemned, 
and  his  house  was  to  serve  as  a  funeral  pile. 

"Halt,  there!"  cried  he,  sword  in  hand,  and  one  foot 
upon  the  window.     "Menneville,  what  do  you  want  to  do?'* 

"Monsieur  d'Artagnau,"  cried  the  latter,  "give  way,  give 
way!" 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  405 

"To  the  fire!  to  the  fire  with  the  thieves!    Vive  Colbert!" 

These  cries  exasperated  D'Artagnan.  "  Mordioux!'  said 
he.  "What!  burn  the  poor  devils  who  are  only  condemned 
to  be  hung?    That  is  infamous!" 

Before  the  door,  however,  the  mass  of  anxious  spectators, 
rolled  back  against  the  walls,  had  become  more  thick,  and 
closed  up  the  way.  Menneville  and  his  men,  who  were 
dragging  along  the  culprits,  were  within  ten  paces  of  the 
door. 

Menneville  made  a  last  effort.  "Passage!  passage!"  cried 
he,  pistol  in  hand. 

"Burn  them!  burn  them!"  repeated  the  crowd.  "The 
Image  de  Notre  Dame  is  on  fire!  Burn  the  thieves!  burn 
the  monopolists  in  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame!" 

There  now  remained  no  doubt;  it  was  plainly  D'Artag- 
nan's  house  that  was  their  object.  D'Artagnan  remem- 
bered the  old  cry,  always  so  effective  from  his  mouth:  "A 
mot,  rnousquetaires !"  shouted  he,  with  a  voice  of  a  giant, 
with  one  of  those  voices  which  dominate  over  cannon,  the 
sea,  the  tempest.  "A  moi,  rnousquetaires!"  And  suspend- 
ing himself  by  the  arm  from  the  balcony,  he  allowed  him- 
self to  drop  amid  the  crowd,  which  began  to  draw  back 
from  a  house  that  rained  men.  Raoul  was  on  the  ground 
as  soon  as  he,  both  sword  in  hand.  All  the  musketeers  on 
the  Place  heard  that  challenging  cry — all  turned  round  at 
that  cry,  and  recognized  D'Artagnan. 

"To  the  captain!  to  the  captain!"  cried  they,  in  their 
turn.  And  the  crowd  opened  before  them  as  if  before  the 
prow  of  a  vessel.  At  that  moment  D'Artagnan  and  Men- 
neville found  themselves  face  to  face. 

"Passage!  passage!"  cried  Menneville,  seeing  that  he  was 
within  an  arm's-length  of  the  door. 

"No  one  passes  here!"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Take  that,  then!"  said  Menneville,  firing  his  pistol, 
almost  within  touch.  But  before  the  cock  had  dropped, 
D'Artagnan  had  struck  up  Menneville's  arm  with  the  hilt 
of  his  sword,  and  passed  the  blade  through  his  body. 

"I  told  you  plainly  to  keep  yourself  quiet,"  said  D'Ar- 
tagnan to  Menneville,  who  rolled  at  his  feet. 

"Passage!  passage!"  cried  the  companions  of  Menneville, 
at  first  terrified,  but  soon  recovering,  when  they  found  they 
had  only  to  do  with  two  men.  But  those  two  men  were 
hundred-armed  giants;  the  sword  flies  about  in  their  hands 
like  the  burning  glaive  of  the  archangel.  It  pierces  with 
its  point,  strikes  with  its  back,  cuts  with  its  e«,<,t>:  everv 
stroke  brings  dew-*  its 


406  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXNE. 

"  For  the  king  !  "  cried  D'Artagnan,  to  every  man  he  strnck 
at,  that  is  to  .say,  to  every  man  that  fell.  This  cry  became 
the  charging  word  for  the  musketeers,  who,  guided  hy  it, 
joined  D'Artagnan.  During  this  time  the  archers,  recover- 
ing from  the  panic  they  hud  undergone,  charged  the  aggres- 
sors in  the  rear,  and  regular  as  mill-strokes,  overturn  or 
knock  down  all  that  oppose  them.  The  crowd,  which  sees 
swords  gleaming,  and  drops  of  blood  flying  in  the  air — the 
crowd  falls  back  and  crushes  itself.  At  length  cries  for 
mercy  and  of  despair  resound;  that  is,  the  farewell  of  th< 
vanquished. 

The  two  condemned  are  again  in  tho  hands  of  the  archers. 
D'Artagnan  approaches  them,  and  seeing  them  pale  and 
sinking  : 

"  Console  yourselves,  poor  men,"  said  he,  "you  will  not 
>tindergo  the  frightful  torture  with  which  these  wretches 
threaten  you.  The  king  has  condemned  you  to  be  hung  ; 
you  shall  only  be  hung.  Go  on  ;  hang  them,  and  it  will  be 
over." 

There  is  no  longer  anything  going  on  at  the  Image  do 
Notre  Dame.  The  fire  has  been  extinguished  with  two  tuns 
of  wine  in  default  of  water.  The  conspirators  have  fled  by 
the  garden.  The  archers  were  dragging  the  culprits  to  the 
gibbets.  From  this  moment  the  affair  did  not  occupy  much 
time.  The  executioner,  heedless  about  operating  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  art,  made  such  haste  that  he  dispatched 
the  condemned  in  a  minute  In  the  meantime  the  people 
gathered  around  D'Artagnan — they  felicitated,  they  cheered 
him.  He  wiped  his  brow,  streaming  with  sweat,  and  his 
sword,  streaming  with  blood.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
tit  seeing  Menneville  writhing  at  his  feet  in  the  last  convul- 
sions. And,  while  Eaoul  turned  away  his  eyes  in  compas  , 
sion,  he  pointed  up  to  the  musketeers  the  gibbets  laden  ' 
with  their  melancholy  fruit. 

''Poor  devils  !"  said  he,  "I  hope  they  died  blessing  rre 
for  I  saved  them  narrowly." 

These  words  caught  the  ear  of  Menneville  at  the  moment 
when  he  himself  was  breathing  his  last  sigh.  A  dark,  iron- 
ical smile  flitted  across  his  lips  ;  he  wished  to  reply,  but  the 
effort  hastened  the  snapping  of  the  chord  of  life — he 
expired. 

"  Oh  !  all  this  is  very  frightful ! "  murmured  Eaoul  ;  "  let 
us  be  gone,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier." 

"  You  are  not  wounded  ?"  asked  D'Artagnan. 

"  Not  at  all,  thank  you." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  40? 

"That's  well!  Thou  art  a,  brave  fellow,  mordioux!  The 
head  of  the  father,  and  the  arm  of  Porthos.  Ah!  if  he  had 
been  here,  that  Porthos,  you  would  have  seen  something 
worth  looking  at."     Then,  as  if  by  way  of  remembrance: 

"But  where  the  devil  can  that  brave  Porthos  be?"'  mur- 
mured D'Artagnan. 

"Come,  chevalier,  pray  come!"  urged  Raoul. 

"One  minute,  my  friend;  let  me  take  my  thirty-seven 
and  a  half  pistoles,  and  I  shall  be  at  your  service.  The 
house  is  a  good  property,"  added  D'Artagnan,  as  he  entered 
the  Image  de  Notre  Dame,  "but  decidedly,  even  if  it  were 
less  profitable,  I  should  prefer  its  being  in  another  quarter." 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

HOW    THE    DIAMOND    OF    M.    D'EYMERIS    PASSED    INTO    THE 
HANDS   OF  M.    D'ARTAGNAN. 

"While  this  violent,  noisy,  and  bloody  scene  was  passing 
on  the  Greve,  several  men,  barricaded  behind  the  gate  of 
communication  with  the  garden,  replaced  their  swords  in 
their  sheaths,  assisted  one  among  them  to  mount  a  ready 
saddled  horse  which  was  waiting  in  the  garden,  and,  like  a 
flock  of  terrified  birds,  fled  away  in  all  directions,  some 
climbing  the  walls,  others  rushing  out  at  the  gates  with  all 
the  fury  of  a  panic.  He  who  mounted  the  horse,  and  who 
gave  him  the  spur  so  sharply  that  the  animal  was  near  leap- 
ing the  wall,  this  cavalier,  we  say,  crossed  the  Place  Bau- 
doyer,  passed  like  lightning  before  the  crowd  in  the  streets, 
riding  against,  running  over,  and  knocking  down  all  that 
came  in  his  way,  and,  ten  minutes  after,  arrived  at  the 
gates  of  the  surintendant,  more  out  of  breath  than  his 
horse.  The  Abbe  Fouquet,  at  the  clatter  of  the  hoofs  on 
the  pavement,  appeared  at  a  window  of  the  court,  and  be- 
fore even  the  cavalier  had  set  foot  to  the  ground,  "Well, 
Danecamp?"  cried  he,  leaning  half  out  of  the  window. 
"Well,  it  is  all  over,"  replied  the  cavalier. 
"All  over!"  cried  the  abbe.  "Then  they  are  saved?" 
"No,  monsieur,"  replied  the  cavalier,  "they  are  hung." 
"Hung!"  repeated  the  abbe,  turning  pale.  A  lateral 
door  suddenly  opened,  and  Fouquet  appeared  in  the  cham- 
ber, pale,  distracted,  with  lips  half  open,  breathing  a  cry  of 
grief  and  anger.  He  stopped  upon  the  threshold  to  listen 
to  what  was  addressed  from  the  court  to  the  window. 


408  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Miserable  wretches!"  said  the  abbe,  "you  did  not  fight 
then?" 

"Like  lions.'; 

"Say  like  cowards." 

"Monsieur!" 

"A  hundred  men  accustomed  to  war,  sword  in  hand,  are 
worth  ten  thousand  archers  in  a  surprise.  AVhere  is  Men- 
neville,  that  boaster,  that  braggart,  who  Avas  to  come  back 
either  dead  or  a  conqueror." 

"Well,  monsieur,  he  has  kept  his  word;  he  is  dead!" 

"Dead!     Who  killed  him?" 

"A  demon  disguised  as  a  man,  a  giant  armed  with  ten 
flaming  swords — a  madman,  who  at  one  blow  extinguished 
the  fire,  extinguished  the  riot,  and  caused  a  hundred  mus- 
keteers to  rise  up  out  of  the  pavement  of  the  Place  de 
Greve." 

Fouquet  raised  his  brow,  streaming  with  sweat,  mur- 
muring, "Oh!  Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris!  dead!  dead!  dead! 
and  I  dishonored." 

The  abbe  turned  round,  and  perceiving  his  brother  de- 
spairing and  livid,  "Come,  come,"  said  he,  "it  is  a  blow  of 
fate,  monsieur;  we  must  not  lament  thus.  As  it  is  not 
effected,  it  is  because  God " 

"Be  silent,  abbe,  be  silent!"  cried  Fouquet,  "your  ex- 
cuses are  blasphemies.  Order  that  man  up  here,  and  let 
him  relate  the  details  of  this  horrible  event." 

"But,  brother " 

"Obey,  monsieur!" 

The  abbe  made  a  sign,  and  in  half  a  minute  the  step  of 
the  man  was  hea  "d  upon  the  stairs.  At  the  same  time 
Gourville  appeared  behind  Fouquet,  like  the  guardian  angel 
of  the  surintendant,  pressing  one  finger  upon  his  lips  to 
enjoin  observation  even  amid  the  bursts  of  his  grief.  The 
minister  resumed  all  the  serenity  that  human  strength  could 
leave  at  the  disposal  of  a  heart  half-broken  with  sorrow. 
Danecamp  appeared.     "Make  your  report,"  said  Gourville. 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  messenger,  "we  received  orders 
to  carry  off  the  prisoners,  and  to  cry  '  Vive  Colbert!'  while 
carrying  them  off." 

"To  burn  them  alive,  was  it  not,  abbe?"  interrupted 
Gourville. 

"Yes,  yes,  the  order  was  given  to  Menneville.  Menne- 
ville  knew  what  was  to  be  done,  and  Menneville  is  dead." 
This  news  appeared  rather  to  reassure  Gourville  than  to 
sadden  him, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  409 

"Yes,  certainly,  to  burn  them  alive/'  said  the  abbe 
eagerly. 

"Granted,  monsieur,  granted,"  said  the  man,  looking 
into  the  eyes  and  the  faces  of  the  two  interlocutors,  to 
ascertain  what  there  was  profitable  or  disadvantageous  to 
himself  in  telling  the  truth. 

"Now,  proceed,"  said  Gourville. 
The  prisoners,"  cried  Danecamp,  "were  brought  to  the 
Greve,  and  the  people,  in  a  fury,  insisted  upon  their  being 
burned  instead  of  being  hung." 

"And  the  people  were  right,"  said  the  abbe.     "Go  on." 

"But,"  resumed  the  man,  "at  the  moment  the  archers 
were  broken,  at  the  moment  the  fire  was  set  to  one  of  the 
houses  of  the  Place  destined  to  serve  as  a  funeral  pile  for 
the  guilty,  the  fury,  the  demon,  the  giant  of  whom  I  told 
you,  and  who,  we  had  been  informed,  was  the  proprietor  of 
the  house  in  question,  aided  by  a  young  man  who  accom- 
panied him,  threw  out  of  the  window  those  who  kept  up 
the  fire,  called  to  his  assistance  the  musketeers  who  were  in 
the  crowd,  leaped  himself  from  the  window  of  the  first  story 
into  the  Place,  and  plied  his  sword  so  desperately  that  the 
victory  was  restored  to  the  archers,  the  prisoners  were 
retaken,  and  Menneville  killed.  When  once  recaptured, 
the  condemned  were  executed  in  three  minutes."  Fou- 
quet,  in  spite  of  his  self-command,  could  not  prevent  a  deep 
groan  from  escaping  him. 

"And  this  man,  the  proprietor  of  the  house,  what  is  his 
name?"  said  the  abbe. 

"I  cannot  tell  you,  never  having  been  able  to  get  sight  of 
him;  my  post  had  been  appointed  in  the  garden,  and  I  re- 
mained at  my  post;  only  the  affair  was  related  to  me  as  I 
repeat  it.  I  was  ordered,  when  once  the  thing  was  ended, 
to  come  at  best  speed  and  announce  to  you  the  manner  in 
which  it  finished.  According  to  this  order,  I  set  out,  full 
gallop,  and  here  I  am." 

"Very  well,  monsieur,  we  have  nothing  else  to  ask  of 
you,!'  said  the  abbe,  more  and  more  dejected,  in  proportion 
as  the  moment  approached  for  finding  himself  alone  with 
his  brother. 

"Have  yor  been  paid?"  asked  Gourville. 

"Partly,  monsieur,"  replied  Danecamp. 

"Here  are  twenty  pistoles.  Be  gone,  monsieur,  and 
never  forget  to  defend,  as  this  time  has  been  done,  the  true 
interests  of  the  king." 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  said  the  man,  bowing  and  pocketing 


410  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

the  money.  After  which  he  went  out.  Scarcely  had  the 
door  closed  after  him,  when  Fouquet,  who  had  remained 
motionless,  advanced  with  a  rapid  step,  and  stood  between 
the  abbe  and  Gourville.  Both  of  them  at  the  same  time 
opened  their  mouths  to  speak  to  him.  "No  excuses,"  said 
he,  "no  recriminations  against  anybody.  If  I  had  not  been 
a  false  friend  I  should  not  have  confided  to  any  one  the 
care  of  delivering  Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris.  I  alone  am 
guilty ;  to  me  alone  are  reproaches  and  remorse  due.  Leave 
me,  abbe.'' 

"And  yet,  monsieur,  you  will  not  prevent  me,"  replied 
the  latter,  "from  endeavoring  to  find  out  the  miserable 
fellow  who  has  intervened  for  the  advantage  of  Monsieur 
Colbert  in  this  so  well-arranged  affair;  for,  if  it  is  good 
policy  to  love  our  friends  dearly,  I  do  not  believe  that  is 
bad  which consistsin pursuing  our  enemies  with  inveteracy." 

"A  truce  to  policy,  abbe ;  be  gone,  I  beg  of  you,  and  do 
not  let  me  hear  any  more  of  you  till  I  send  for  you ;  what 
we  most  need  is  circumspection  and  silence.  You  have  a 
terrible  example  before  you,  gentlemen;  no  reprisals,  I  for- 
bid them." — "  There  are  no  orders,"  grumbled  the  abbe, 
"which  will  prevent  me  from  avenging  a  family  affront 
upon  the  guilty  person." 

"And  I,"  cried  Fouquet,  in  that  imperative  tone  to  which 
one  feels  there  is  nothing  to  reply,  "if  you  entertain  one 
thought,  one  single  thought,  which  is  not  the  absolute  ex- 
pression of  my  will,  I  will  have  you  cast  into  the  Bastile 
two  hours  after  that  thought  has  manifested  itself.  Regu- 
late your  conduct  accordingly,  abbe." 

The  abbe  colored  and  bowed.  Fouquet  made  a  sign  to 
Gourville  to  follow  him,  and  was  already  directing  his  steps 
toward  his  cabinet,  when  the  usher  announced  with  a  loud 
voice:   "Monsieur  le  Chevalier  d'Artagnan." 

"Who  is  he  ?"  said  Fouquet,  negligently,  to  Gourville. 

"An  ex-lieutenant  of  his  majesty's  musketeers,"  replied 
Gourville,  in  the  same  tone.  Fouquet  did  not  even  take 
the  trouble  to  reflect,  and  resumed  his  walk.  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  monseigneur !"  said  Gourville,  "but  I  have  remem- 
bered ;  this  brave  man  has  quitted  the  king's  service,  and 
probably  comes  to  receive  a  quarter  of  some  pension  or 
other/" — "  Devil  take  him! "  said  Fouquet,  "  why  does  he 
choose  his  time  so  ill?  n 

'"Permit  me,  then,  monseigneur,  to  announce  your  re- 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  411 

fusal  to  him;  for  he  is  one  of  my  acquaintances,  and  is  a 
man  whom,  in  our  present  circumstances,  it  would  be  better 
to  have  as  a  friend  than  an  enemy." 

"Answer  him  as  you  please,"  said  Fouquet. 

"Eh!  good  Lord!"  said  the  abbe,  still  full  of  malice,  like 
an  egotistical  man;  "tell  him  there  is  no  money,  particu- 
larly for  musketeers."  ' 

But  scarcely  had  the  abbe  uttered  this  imprudent  speech, 
when  the  partly  open  door  was  thrown  back,  and  D'Artag- 
nan  appeared. 

"Eh!  Monsieur  Fouquet,"  said  he,  "I  was  well  aware 
there  was  no  money  for  musketeers  here.  Therefore  I  did 
not  come  to  obtain  any,  but  to  have  it  refused.  That  being 
done,  receive  my  thanks.  I  give  you  a  good-day,  and  will 
go  and  seek  it  at  Monsieur  Colbert's."  And  he  went  out, 
after  making  an  easy  bow. 

"Gourville,"  said  Fouquet,  "run  after  that  man  and 
bring  him  back."  Gourville  obeyed,  and  overtook  D'Ar- 
tagnan  on  the  stairs.  D'Artagnan,  hearing  steps  behind 
him,  turned  round  and  perceived  Gourville.  "Mordioua! 
my  dear  monsieur,"  said  he,  "these  are  sad  lessons  which 
you  gentlemen  of  finance  teach  us;  i  come  to  Monsieur 
Fouquet  to  receive  a  sum  accorded  by  his  majesty,  and  I 
am  received  like  a  mendicant  who  comes  to  ask  charity,  or 
like  a  thief  who  comes  to  steal  a  piece  of  plate." 

"But  you  pronounced  the  name  of  Monsieur  Colbert,  my 
dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan;  you  said  you  were  going  to 
Monsieur  Colbert's?" 

"I  certainly  am  going  there,  were  it  only  to  ask  satisfac- 
tion of  the  people  who  try  to  burn  houses,  crying  '  Vive 
Colbert!'" 

Gourville  pricked  up  his  ears.  "Oh,  oh!"  said  he,  "you 
allude  to  what  has  just  happened  at  the  Greve?" 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"And  in  what  did  that  which  has  taken  place  concern 
you?" 

"What!  do  you  ask  me  whether  it  concerns  me,  or  does 
not  concern  me,  if  Monsieur  Colbert  pleases  to  make  a 
funeral  pile  of  my  house?" 

"So,  your  house! — was  it  your  house  they  wanted  to 
burn?" 

"Pardieul  was  it!" 

"Is  the  cabaret  of  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame  vours, 
then?" 

"It  has  been  this  week." 


112  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAOELONNE. 

"'Weil,  then,  are  you  the  brave  captain  who  dispersed  those 
who  wished  to  burn  the  condemned?" 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Gourville,  put  yourself  in  my  place; 
{  am  an  agent  of  the  public  force  and  a  proprietor.  As  a 
;aptain,  it  is  my  duty  to  have  the  orders  of  the  king  accom- 
plished. As  a  proprietor,  it  is  my  interest  my  house  should 
jot  be  burned.  I  have,  then,  at  the  same  time  attended  to 
the  laws  of  interest  and  duty  in  replacing  Messrs.  Lyodot 
md  D'Eymeris  in  the  hands  of  the  archers." 

"Then  it  was  you  who  threw  the  man  out  of  the  window?7' 

"It  was  I,  myself,"  replied  D'Artagnan  modestly. 

"And  you  who  killed  Menneville?" 

"I  had  that  misfortune,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"It  was  you,  then,  in  short,  who  caused  the  two  condemned 
nersons  to  be  hung?" 

"Instead  of  being  burned,  yes,  monsieur,  and  I  am  prouc 
jf  it.  I  saved  the  poor  devils  from  horrible  tortures.  Um 
derstand,  my  dear  Monsieur  de  Gourville,  that  they  wanted 
to  burn  them  alive !    It  exceeds  imagination." 

"Go,  my  dear  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  go,"  said  Gourville, 
anxious  to  spare  Fouquet  the  sight  of  a  man  who  had  just 
2auscd  him  such  profound  grief. 

"No,"  said  Fouquet,  who  had  heard  all  from  the  door  of 
the  antechamber;  "not  so;  on  the  contrary,  Monsieur  d'Artag- 
nan, come  in." 

D'Artagnan  wiped  from  the  hilt  of  his  sw^ord  a  last  bloody 
trace,  which  had  escaped  his  notice,  and  returned.  He  then 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  these  three  men,  whose  coun- 
tenances wore  very  different  expressions;  with  the  abbe  it  was 
anger,  with  Gourville  it  was  stupor,  with  Fouquet  it  was  de- 
jection. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur  le  Ministre,"  said  D'Artag- 
nan, "but  my  time  is  short ;  I  have  to  go  to  the  office  of  the 
intendant,  to  have  an  explanation  writh  Monsieur  Colbert*  and 
tc  take  my  quarter's  pension." 

"But,  monsieur,"  said  Fouquet,  "there  is  money  here/* 
D'Artagnan  looked  at  the  surintendant  with  astonishment. 
"You  have  been  answered  inconsiderately,  monsieur,  I  know, 
because  I  heard  it,"  said  the  minister;  "a  man  of  your  merit 
ought  to  be  known  by  everybody."  D'Artagnan  bowed. 
"Have  you  an  order  ?"  added  Fouquet. 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Givr?   it   me,   I   will   pay   you   myself;    come   with   ae.;' 


THE    VICOMTE    HE    BRAOELONNE.  413 

He  made  a  sign  to  Gourville  and  the  abbe,  who  remained  in 
the  chamber  where  they  were.  He  led  D'Artagnan  into  his 
cabinet.  As  soon  as  the  door  was  shut,,  "How  much  is  due 
to  you,  monsieur?" 

"Why,  something  like  five  thousand  livres,  monseigneur." 

"For  your  arrears  of  pay?" 

"For  a  quarter's  pay." 

"A  quarter  consisting  of  five  thousand  livres!"  :aid  Fou- 
quet,  fixing  upon  the  musketeer  a  searching  look.  "Does 
the  king,  then,  give  you  twenty  thousand  livres  a  year?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur,  twenty  thousand  livres  a  year;  do 
you  think  it  is  too  much?" 

"I?"  cried  Fouquet,  and  he  smiled  bitterly.  "If  I  had 
any  knowledge  of  mankind,  if  I  were — instead  of  being  a 
frivolous,  inconsistent,  nd  vain  spirit — of  a  prudent  and 
reflective  spirit;  if,  in  a  word,  I  had,  as  certain  persons 
have  known  how,  regulated  my  life,  you  would  not  receive 
twenty  thousand  livres  a  year,  but  a  r-imlred  thousand, 
and  you  would  not  b.long  to  the  king  but  to  me." 

D'Artagnan  colored  slightly.  There  is  in  the  manner  in 
which  an  eulogium  is  given,  in  the  voice  of  the  eulogizer, 
in  his  affectionate  tone,  a  poison  so  sweet  that  the  strongest 
mind  is  sometimes  intoxicated  by  it.  The  surintendant 
terminated  his  speech  by  opening  a  drawer,  and  taking 
from  it  four  rouleaus,  which  he  placed  before  D'Artagnan. 
The  Gascon  opened  one.     "Gold!"  said  he. 

"It  will  be  less  burdensome,  monsieur.1" 

"But  then,  monsieur,  these  make  twenty  thousand  livres." 

"No  doubt  they  do." 

"But  only  five  are  due  to  me." 

"I  wish  to  spare  you  the  trouble  of  coming  four  times  to 
my  office." 

"You  overwhelm  me,  monsieur." 

"I  do  only  what  I  ought  to  d%  Monsieur  le  Chevalier; 
and  I  hope  you  will  not  ber.r  me  any  malice  on  account  of 
the  rude  reception  my  brother  gave  you.  He  is  of  a  sour, 
capricious  disposition." 

"Monsieur,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "believe  me,  nothing 
would  grieve  me  more  than  an  excuse  from  you." 

"Therefore  I  will  make  no  more,  and  will  content  myself 
with  asking  you  a  fovor." 

"Oh,  monsieur! 

Fonquet  drew  from  his  finger  a  ring  worth  about  a  thou- 
sand pistoles.  "Monsieur,"  s::,id  he,  "this  stone  was  given 
me  by  a  friend  of  my  ehilJhood,  by  a  man  to  whom  you 
have  rendered  a  great  service." 


414  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"A  service — I?"  said  the  musketeer;  "I  have  rendered 
a  service  to  one  of  your  friends?" 

''You  cannot  have  forgotten  it,  monsieur,  for  it  dates 
this  very  day." 

"And  that  friend's  name  was " 

"Monsieur  d'Eymeris." 

"One  of  the  condemned?" 

"Yes,  one  of  the  victims.  Well,  Monsieur  d'Artagnan, 
in  return  for  the  service  you  have  rendered  him,  I  beg  you 
to  accept  this  diamond.     Do  so  for  my  sake." 

"Monsieur,  you " 

"Accept  it,  I  say.  To-day  is  with  me  a  day  of  mourning; 
hereafter  you  will,  perhaps,  learn  why;  to-day  I  have  lost 
one  friend;  well,  I  will  try  to  get  another." 

"But,  Monsieur  Fouquet " 

"Adieu!  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  adieu!"  cried  Fouquet, 
with  much  emotion*,  "or,  rather,  au  revoir."  And  the 
minister  quitted  the  cabinet,  leaving  in  the  hands  of  the 
musketeer  the  ring  and  the  twenty  thousand  livres. 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  after  a  moment's  dark  re- 
flection. "Do  I  understand  what  this  means?  Mordioux! 
I  can  understand  so  far;  he  is  a  gallant  man!  I  will  go  and 
explain  matters  with  Monsieur  Colbert."  And  he  went 
out. 


■ 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 

OF  THE  NOTABLE  DIFFERENCE  D'ARTAGNAN  FINDS  BETWEEN 
MONSIEUR  THE  INTENDANT  AND  MONSIEUR  THE  SURIN- 
TENDANT. 

M.  Colbert  resided  in  Rue  Neuve  des  Petits  Champs,  in 
a  house  which  had  belonged  to  Beautru.  The  legs  of 
D'Artagnan  cleared  the  distance  in  a  short  quarter  of  an 
hour.  When  he  arrived  at  the  residence  of  the  new  favor- 
ite, the  court  was  full  of  archers  and  police  people,  who 
came  to  congratulate  him,  or  to  excuse  themselves,  accord- 
ing to  whether  he  should  choose  to  praise  or  blame.  The 
sentiment  >f  flattery  is  instinctive  among  people  of  adjacent 
condition;  they  have  the  sense  of  it,  as  the  wild  animal  has 
that  of  hearing  and  smell.  These  people,  or  their  leader, 
had  then  understood  that  there  was  a  pleasure  to  offer  M. 
Colbert  in  rendering  him  an  account  of  the  fashion  in  which 
his  name  had  been  pronounced  during  the  rash  enterprise 


THE  VICOMTE    DE   BR AOELONNE.  415 

of  the  morning.  D'Artagnan  made  his  appearance  just  as 
the  chief  of  the  watch  was  giving  his  report.  D'Artagnan 
stood  close  to  the  door,  behind  the  archers.  That  officer 
took  Colbert  on  one  side,  in  spite  of  his  resistance  and  the 
contraction  of  his  great  eyebrows.  "In  case,"  said  he, 
"you  really  desired,  monsieur,  that  the  people  should  do 
justice  on  the  two  traitors,  it  would  have  been  wise  to  warn 
us  of  it;  for,  indeed,  monsieur,  in  spite  of  our  regret  at 
displeasing  you,  or  thwarting  your  views,  we  had  our  orders 
to  execute." 

''Triple  fool!"  replied  Colbert,  furiously  shaking  his  hair, 
thick  and  black  as  a  mane;  "what  are  you  telling  me, 
Chere?  What!  that  I  could  have  had  an  idea  of  a  riot! 
Are  you  mad  or  drunk?'" 

"But,  monsieur,  they  cried  '  Vive  Colbert!'  "  replied  the 
trembling  watch. 

"A  handful  of  conspirators " 

"No,  no;  a  mass  of  people." 

"Ah,  indeed,"  said  Colbert,  expanding.  "A  mass  of 
people  cried,  '  Vive  Colbert!'  Are  you  certain  of  what  you 
say,  monsieur?" 

"We  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  open  our  ears,  or  rather  to 
close  them,  so  terrible  were  the  cries." 

"And  this  was  from  the  people,  real  people?" 

"Certainly,  monsieur;  only  these  real  people  beat  us." 

"Oh!  very  well,"  continued  Colbert  thoughtfully. 
"Then  you  suppose  it  was  the  people  alone  who  wished  to 
barn  the  condemned?" 

"Oh!  yes,  monsieur." 

"That  is  quite  another  thing.  You  strongly  resisted, 
then?" 

"We  had  three  men  stifled,  monsieur." 

"But  you  killed  nobody  yourselves?" 

"Monsieur,  a  few  of  the  rioters  were  left  upon  the  square, 
and  one  among  them  was  not  a  common  man." 

"Who  was  he?" 

''A  certain  Menneville,  upon  whom  the  police  have  a 
long  time  had  an  eye." 

"Menneville!"  cried  Colbert,  "what,  he  who  killed  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Hochette  a  worthy  man  who  wanted  a  fat 
fowl?" 

"Yes,  monsieur;  the  same." 

"And  did  this  Menneville  aleo  cry,  '  Viae  Colbert?'  " 

"Louder  than  all  the  rest;  '.ike  a  madman." 

The  brow  of  Colbert  became  cloudy  and  wrinkled.     A 


416  THE  VICOMTE   DK   BRAGELONNE. 

kind  of  ambitious  glory  which  had  lighted  his  face  was  ex- 
tinguished, like  the  light  of  those  glowworms  which  we 
crush  beneath  the  grass.  "What  then  do  you  say,  resumed 
the  deceived  intendant,  "that  the  initiative  came  from  the 
people?  Menneville  was  my  enemy;  I  would  have  had  him 
hung,  and  he  knew  it  well.  Menneville  belonged  to  the 
Abbe  Fouquet — all  the  affair  originated  with  Fouquet;  does 
not  everybody  know  that  the  condemned  were  his  friends 
from  childhood?" 

"That  is  true,"  thought  D'Artagnan,  "and  there  are  all 
my  doubts  cleared  up.  I  repeat  it,  Monsieur  Fouquet  may 
be  what  they  please,  but  he  is  a  gentlemanly  man." 

"And,"  continued  Colbert,  "are  you  quite  sure  Menne- 
ville is  dead?" 

D'Artagnan  thought  the  time  was  come  for  him  to  make 
his  appearance.  "Perfectly,  monsieur,"  replied  he,  ad- 
vancing suddenly. 

"Oh!  is  that  you,  monsieur?"  said  Colbert. 

"In  person,"  replied  the  musketeer,  with  his  deliberate 
tone;  "it  appears  that  you  had  in  Menneville  a  pretty  little 
enemy." 

"It  was  not  I,  monsieur,  who  had  an  enemy,"  replied 
Colbert;  "it  was  the  king." 

"Double  brute!"  thought  D'Artagnan,  "to  think  to  play 
the  great  man  and  the  hypocrite  with  me.  Well,"  con- 
tinued he  to  Colbert,  "I  am  very  happy  to  have  rendered  so 
good  a  service  to  the  king;  will  you  take  upon  you  to  tell 
his  majesty,  Monsieur  l'lntendant?" 

"What  commission  do  you  give  me,  and  what  do  you 
charge  me  to  tell  his  majesty,  monsieur?  Be  precise,  if 
you  please,"  said  Colbert,  in  a  sharp  voice,  tuned  before- 
hand to  hostility. 

"I  give  you  no  commission,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  with 
that  calmness  which  never  abandons  the  banterer;  "I 
thought  it  would  be  easy  for  you  to  announce  to  his  majesty 
that  it  was  I  who,  being  there  by  chance,  did  justice  upon 
Menneville,  and  restored  things  to  order." 

Colbert  opened  his  eyes,  and  interrogated  the  chief  of 
the  watch  with  a  look:  "Ah!  it  is  very  true,"  said  the 
latter,  "that  this  gentleman  saved  us." 

"What  did  you  tell  me,  monsieur,  that  you  are  come  to 
relate  me  this?"  said  Colbert,  with  envy;  "everything  is 
explained,  and  better  for  you  than  for  any  other." 

"You  are  in  error,  Monsieur  l'lntendant;  I  did  not  at  all 
come  for  the  purpose  of  relating  that  to  you- " 


THE  VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELCNNE  417 

"It  »s  an  exploit,  neverthe^sSo" 

"Oh!"  said  the  musketeer  carelessly,  "constant  habit 
Diu^ts  the  mind." 

"To  what  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  your  visit,  then?" 

''Simply  to  this:  the  king  ordered  me  to  come  to  you." 

"Ah!"  said  Colbert,  recovering  himself,  because  he  saw 
D'Artagnan  draw  a  paper  from  his  pocket;  "it  is  to  demand 
some  money  of  me?" 

"Precisely,  monsieur." 

"Have  the  goodness  to  wait,  if  you  please,  monsieur,  till 
I  have  dispatched  the  report  of  the  watch." 

D'Artagnan  turned  round  upon  his  heel  insolently  enough, 
and  finding  himself  face  to  face  with  Colbert,  after  his  first 
turn,  he  bowed  to  him  as  a  harlequin  would  have  done; 
then,  after  a  second  evolution,  he  directed  his  steps  toward 
the  door  in  quick  time.  Colbert  was  struck  with  this 
pointed  rudeness,  to  which  he  was  not  accustomed.  In 
general,  men  of  the  sword,  when  they  came  to  his  office, 
had  such  a  want  of  money,  that  though  their  feet  had 
taken  root  in  the  marble,  they  would  not  have  lost  their 
patience.  Was  D'Artagnan  going  straight  to  the  king? 
Would  he  go  and  describe  his  bad  reception,  or  recount  his 
exploit?  This  was  a  grave  matter  of  consideration.  At  all 
events,  the  moment  was  badly  chosen  to  send  D'Artagnan 
away,  whether  he  came  from  the  king,  or  on  his  own 
account.  The  musketeer  had  rendered  too  great  a  service, 
and  that  too  recently,  for  it  to  be  already  forgotten. 
Therefore  Colbert  thought  it  would  be  better  to  shake  off 
his  arrogance  and  call  D'Artagnan  back.  "Ho!  Monsieur 
d'Artagnan,"  cried  Colbert,  "what!  are  you  leaving  me 
thus?" 

D'Artagnan  turned  round:  "Why  not?"  said  he  quietly, 
"we  have  no  more  to  say  to  each  other,  have  we?" 

"You  have  at  least  money  to  take,  as  you  have  an  order?" 

"Who,  I?    Oh!  not  at  all,  my  dear  Monsieur  Colbert." 

"But,  monsieur,  you  have  an  order.  And,  in  the  same 
manner  as  you  give  a  sword-thrust,  when  you  are  required, 
I,  on  my  part,  pay  when  an  order  is  presented  to  me. 
Present  yours." 

"It  is  useless,  my  dear  Monsieur  Colbert,"  said  D'Artag- 
nan, who  inwardly  enjoyed  the  confusion  introduced  int« 
the  ideas  of  Colbert;  "this  order  is  paid." 

"Paid,  by  whom?" 

"By  Monsieur  le  Surintendant." 

Colbert  became  pale. 


418  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

''Explain  yourself,  then,"  said  he,  in  a  stifled  voce;  "i' 
you  are  paid  why  do  you  show  me  that  paper?" 

''In  consequence  of  the  word  of  order  of  which  you  spoke 
to  me  so  ingeniously  just  now,  dear  Monsieur  Colbert;  the 
king  told  me  to  take  a  quarter  of  the  pension  he  is  pleased 
to  make  me." 

"Of  me?"  said  Colbert. 

"Not  exactly.  The  king  said  to  me:  'Go  to  Monsieur 
Fouquet',  the  surintendant  will,  perhaps,  have  no  money; 
then  you  will  go  and  draw  it  of  Monsieur  Colbert.'  " 

The  countenance  of  M.  Colbert  brightened  for  a  moment; 
but  it  was  with  his  unfortunate  physiognomy  as  with  a 
stormy  sky,  sometimes  radiant,  sometimes  dark  as  night, 
according  as  the  lightning  gleams  or  the  cloud  passes 
by. 

"Eh!  and  was  there  any  money  in  the  surintendant's 
coffers?"  asked  he. 

"Why,  yes;  he  could  not  be  badly  off  for  money,"  replied 
D'Artagnan,  "it  may  be  believed  since  Monsieur  Fouquet 
instead  of  paying  me  a  quarter  of  five  thousand  livres " 

"A  quarter  of  five  thousand  livres!"  cried  Colbert,  struck 
as  Fouquet  had  been,  with  the  largeness  of  the  sum  des- 
tined to  pay  a  soldier;  "why,  that  would  be  a  pensiou  of 
twenty  thousand  livres!" 

"Exactly,  Monsieur  Colbert.  Peste!  you  reckon  like  old 
Pythagoras;  yes,  twenty  thousand  livres." 

"Ten  times  the  appointment  of  an  intendant  of  the 
finances.  I  beg  to  offer  you  my  compliments."  said  Col- 
bert, with  a  venomous  smile. 

"Oh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "the  king  apologized  for  giving 
me  so  little;  but  he  promised  to  make  it  more  hereafter, 
when  he  should  be  rich;  but  I  must  be  gone,  having  much 
to  do " 

"So,  then,  notwithstanding  the  expectation  of  the  king; 
the  surintendant  paid  you,  did  he?" 

"In  the  same  manner  as,  in  opposition  to  the  king's  ex- 
pectation, you  refused  to  pay  me." 

"I  did  not  refuse,  monsieur,  I  only  begged  you  to  wait. 
And  you  say  that  Monsieur  Fouquet  paid  you  your  five 
thousand  livres?" 

"Yes,  as  you  might  have  done;  but  he  did  still  bettei 
than  that,  Monsieur  Colbert." 

"And  what  did  he  do?" 

"He  politely  counted  me  down  the  totality  of  the  sum, 
saying,  that  for  the  king,  his  coilors  were  always  lull." 


THE   VICOMTE   DP!  BRA.GELONNE.  419 

"The  totality  of  the  sum!  Monsieur  Fouquet  has  given 
you  twenty  thousand  livres  instead  of  five  thousand ?" 

"Yes,  monsieur," 

''And  what  for?" 

"In  order  to  spare  me  three  visits  to  the  money  chest  of 
the  surintendant,  so  that  I  have  the  twenty  thousand  livres 
in  my  pocket  in  good  new  coin.  You  see,  then,  that  I  am 
able  to  go  away  without  standing  in  need  of  you,  having 
come  here  only  for  form's  sake."  And  D'Artagnan  slapped 
his  hand  upon  his  pocket,  with  a  laugh  which  disclosed  to 
Colbert  thirty-two  magnificent  teeth,  as  white  as  teeth  of 
twenty-five  years  old,  and  which  seemed  to  say  in  their 
language:  "Serve  up  to  us  thirty-two  little  Colberts,  and  we 
will  grind  them  willingly."  The  serpent  is  as  brave  as 
the  lion,  the  hawk  as  courageous  as  the  eagle,  that  cannot 
be  contested.  It  can  only  be  said  of  animals  that  are  de- 
cidedly cowardly,  and  are  so  called,  that  they  will  not  be 
brave  when  they  have  to  defend  themselves.  Colbert  was 
not  frightened  at  the  thirty-two  teeth  of  D'Artagnan.  He 
recovered,  and  suddenly,  "Monsieur,"  said  he,  "Monsieur 
le  Surintendant  has  done  what  he  had  no  right  to  do." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  replied  D'Artagnan. 

"I  mean  that  your  note — will  you  let  me  see  your  note, 
if  you  please?" 

"Very  willingly;  here  it  is." 

Colbert  seized  the  paper  with  an  eagerness  which  the 
musketeer  did  not  remark  without  uneasiness,  and  particu- 
larly without  a  certain  degree  of  regret  at  having  trusted 
him  with  it.  "Well,  monsieur,  the  royal  order  says  this'. 
'At  sight,  I  command  that  there  be  paid  to  Monsieur  d'Ar- 
tagnan  the  sum  of  five  thousand  livres,  forming  a  quarter 
of  the  pension  I  have  made  him.'  " 

"So,  in  fact,  it  is  written,"  said  D'Artagnan,  affecting 
salmness. 

"Very  well;  the  king  only  owed  you  five  thousand  livres; 
why  has  more  been  given  to  you?" 

"Because  there  was  more;  and  Monsieur  Fouquet  was 
willing  to  give  me  more;  that  does  not  concern  anybody." 

"It  is  natural,"  said  Colbert,  with  a  proud  ease,  "that 
you  should  be  ignorant  of  the  usages  of  comptabilite;  but, 
monsieur,  when  you  have  a  thousand  livres  to  pay,  what  do 
you  do." 

"I  never  have  a  thousand  livres  to  pay,"  replied  D'Ar- 
tagnan. 

"Once  more,"  said  Colbert,  irritated;  "once  more,  if  you 
had  any  sum  to  pay,  would  you  uotjpay  what  you  ought?" 


420  THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE.  * 

"That  only  proves  one  thing,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "and 
that  is,  that  you  have  your  particular  customs  in  compta- 
lilite  and  Monsieur  Fouquet  has  his  own." 

"Mine,  monsieur,  are  the  correct  ones." 

"I  do  not  say  they  are  not." 

"And  you  have  received  what  was  not  due  to  you." 

The  eye  of  D'Artagnan  flashed.  "What  is  not  due  to  me 
yet,  you  meant  to  say,  Monsieur  Colbert;  for  if  I  had  re- 
ceived what  was  not  due  to  me  at  all,  I  should  have  com- 
mitted a  theft." 

Colbert  made  no  reply  to  this  subtlety.  "You  then  owe 
fifteen  thousand  livres  to  the  public  chest,"  cried  he,  car- 
ried away  by  his  jealous  ardor. 

"Then,  you  must  give  me  credit  for  them,"  replied 
D'Artagnan,  with  his  imperceptible  irony. 

"Not  at  all,  monsieur." 

"Well!  what  will  you  do,  then?  You  will  not  take  my 
rouleaus  from  me,  will  you?" 

"You  must  return  them  to  my  chest." 

"I!  Oh!     Monsieur  Colbert,  don't  reckon  upon  that." 

"The  king  wants  his  money,  monsieur." 

"And  I,  monsieur,  I  want  the  king's  money." 

"That  may  be;  but  you  must  return  this." 

"Not  a  sou.  I  have  always  understood,  that  in  matters 
of  comptabilite,  as  you  call  it,  a  good  cashier  never  gives 
back  or  takes  back." 

"Then,  monsieur,  we  shall  see  what  the  king  will  say 
about  it.  I  will  show  him  this  note,  which  proves  that 
Monsieur  Fouquet  not  only  pays  what  he  does  not  owe,  but 
that  he  does  not  even  take  care  of  the  receipts  for  what  he 
has  paid." 

"Ah!  now  I  understand  why  you  have  taken  that  paper, 
Monsieur  Colbert." 

Colbert  did  not  perceive  all  that  there  was  of  a  threaten- 
ing character  in  his  name  pronounced  in  a  certain  manner. 
"You  shall  see  hereafter  what  use  I  will  make  of  it,"  said 
he,  holding  up  the  paper  in  his  fingers. 

"Oh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  snatching  the  paper  from  him 
with  a  rapid  movement;  "I  understand  it  perfectly  well. 
Monsieur  Colbert;  I  have  no  occasion  to  wait  for  that." 
And  he  crumpled  up  in  his  pocket  the  paper  he  had  so 
cleverly  seized. 

"Monsieur,  monsieur!"  cried  Colbert,  "that  is  violence!" 

"Nonsense!  you  must  not  be  particular  about  the  man* 
ners   of  a   soldier!"   replied    D'Artagnan.     "I   kiss    your 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONSTE.  421 

hands,  my  dear  Monsieur  Colbert.'5     And   he   went  out, 
laughing  in  the  face  of  the  future  minister. 

"That  man,  now,"  muttered  he,  "was  about  to  adore 
me;  it  is  a  great  pity  I  was  obliged  to  cut  company  so  soon." 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  HEART  AND  MIND. 

'  For  a  man  who  has  seen  so  many  much  more  dangerous 
ones,  the  position  of  D'Artagnan  with  respect  to  M.  Col- 
bert was  only  comic.  D'Artagnan,  therefore,  did  not  deny 
himself  the  satisfaction  of  laughing  at  the  expense  of  M. 
PIntendant  from  the  Rue  des  Petits  Champs  to  the  Rue  des 
Lombards.  It  was  a  great  while  since  D'Artagnan  had 
laughed  so  long  together.  He  was  still  laughing  when 
Planchet  appeared,  laughing  likewise,  at  the  door  of  his 
house;  for  Planchet,  since  the  return  of  his  patron,  since 
the  entrance  of  the  English  guineas,  passed  the  greater  part 
of  his  life  in  doing  what  D'Artagnan  had  only  done  from 
Rue  Neuve  des  Petits  Champs  to  the  Rue  des  Lombards. 

"You  are  come,  then,  my  dear  master?"  said  Planchet. 

"No,  my  friend,"  replied  the  musketeer;  "I  am  going, 
and  that  quickly.  I  will  sup  with  you,  go  to  bed,  sleep  five 
hours,  and  at  break  of  day  leap  into  my  saddle.  Has  my 
horse  had  an  extra  feed?" 

"Eh!  my  dear  master,"  replied  Planchet,  "you  know 
very  well  that  your  horse  is  the  jewel  of  the  family;  that 
my  lads  are  caressing  it  all  day,  and  cramming  it  with 
sugar,  nuts,  and  biscuits.  You  ask  me  if  he  has  had  an 
extra  feed  of  oats;  but  you  should  ask  if  he  has  not  had 
enough  to  burst  him." 

"Very  well,  Planchet,  that  is  all  right.  Now,  then,  I 
pass  to  what  concerns  me — my  supper?" 

"Ready.  A  smoking  roast  joint,  white  wine,  crayfish, 
and  fresh -gathered  cherries.     All  ready,  my  master." 

"You  are  a  capital  fellow,  Planchet;  come  on,  then,  let 
us  sup,  and  I  will  go  to  bed." 

During  supper  D'Artagnan  observed  that  Planchet  kept 
rubbing  his  forehead,  as  if  to  facilitate  the  issue  of  some 
idea  closely  pent  within  his  brain.  He  looked  with  an  air 
of  kindness  at  this  worthy  companion  of  his  former  crosses, 
and,  clinking  glass  against  glass,  "Come,  Planchet,"  said 


422  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELOXXE. 

he,  "let  us  see  what  it  is  that  gives  you  so  much  trouble  tc 
bring  it  forth,     Mordiouz!  speak  freely  and  quickly." 

"Well,  this  is  it,"  replied  Planchet;  "you  appear  to  be 
going  on  some  expedition  or  other." 

"I  don't  say  that  I  am  not." 

"Then  you  have  some  new  idea?" 

"That  is  possible,  too,  Planchet." 

"Then  there  will  be  a  fresh  capital  to  be  ventured?  1 
will  lay  down  fifty  thousand  livres  upon  the  idea  you  are 
about  to  carry  out.'*  And  so  saying,  Planchet  rubbed  his 
hands  one  against  the  other  with  a  rapidity  evincing  great 
delight. 

"Planchet,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "there  is  but  one  misfor- 
tune in  it." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"That  the  idea  is  not  mine.     I  can  risk  nothing  upon  it." 

These  words  drew  a  deep  sigh  from  the  heart  of  Planchet. 
That  Avarice  is  an  ardent  counselor;  she  carries  away  her 
man,  as  Satan  did  Jesus,  to  the  mountain,  and  when  once 
she  has  shown  to  an  unfortunate  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth,  she  is  able  to  repose  herself,  knowing  full  well  that 
she  has  left  her  companion,  Envy,  to  gnaw  his  heart. 
Planchet  had  tasted  of  riches  easily  acquired,  and  was 
never  afterward  likely  to  stop  in  his  desires;  but  as  he  had 
a  good  heart  in  spite  of  his  covetousness,  as  he  adored 
D'Artagnan,  he  could  not  refrain  from  making  him  a  thou- 
sand recommendations,  each  more  affectionate  than  the 
others.  He  would  not  have  been  sorry,  nevertheless,  to 
have  caught  a  little  hint  of  the  secret  his  master  concealed 
so  well.  Tricks,  turns,  counsels,  and  traps  were  all  useless, 
D'Artagnan  let  nothing  confidential  escape  him.  The 
evening  passed  thus.  After  supper  the  portmanteau  occu- 
pied D'Artagnan,  he  took  a  turn  to  the  stable,  patted  his 
horse,  and  examined  his  shoes  and  legs;  then,  having 
counted  over  his  money,  he  went  to  bed,  sleeping  as  if  only 
twenty,  because  he  had  neither  inquietude  nor  remorse;  he 
closed  his  eyes  five  minutes  after  he  had  blown  out  his 
lamp.  Many  events  might,  however,  have  kept  him  awake. 
Thought  boiled  in  his  brain,  conjectures  abounded,  and 
D'Artagnan  was  a  great  drawer  of  horoscopes;  but,  with 
that  imperturbable  phlegm  which  does  more  than  genius 
for  the  fortune  and  happiness  of  men  of  action,  he  put  off 
reflection  till  the  next  day,  for  fear,  he  said,  not  to  be  fresh 
when  he  wanted  to  be  so. 

The  day  came.     The  Kiie  des  Lombards  had  its  share  of 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BEAGELONNE.  423 

(^he  caresses  of  Aurora  with  the  rosy  fingers,  and  D'Artag- 
oan  arose  like  Aurora.  He  did  not  awaken  anybody;  he 
placed  his  portmanteau  under  his  arm,  descended  the  stairs 
without  making  one  of  them  creak,  and  without  disturb- 
ing one  of  the  sonorous  snorings  storied  from  the  garret  to 
the  cellar,  then,  having  saddled  his  horse,  shut  the  stable 
and  house  doors,  he  set  off,  at  a  foot  pace,  on  his  expedi- 
tion to  Bretagne.  He  had  done  quite  right  not  to  trouble 
himself  with  all  the  political  and  diplomatic  affairs  which 
solicited  his  attention;  for  in  the  morning,  in  freshness  and 
mild  twilight,  his  ideas  developed  themselves  in  purity  and 
abundance.  In  the  first  place,  he  passed  before  the  house 
cf  Fouquet,  and  threw  into  a  large  gaping  box  the  fortunate 
order  which,  the  evening  before,  he  had  so  much  trouble  to 
recover  from  the  hooked  fingers  of  the  intendant.  Placed 
in  an  envelope,  and  addressed  to  Fouquet,  it  had  not  even 
been  divined  by  Planchet,  who  in  divination  was  equal  to 
Calchas  or  the  Pythian  Apollo.  D'Artagnan  thus  sent  back 
the  order  to  Fouquet  without  compromising  himself,  and 
without  having  thenceforward  any  reproaches  to  make  him- 
self. When  he  had  effected  this  proper  restitution,  "Now," 
said  he  to  himself,  "let  us  inhale  much  maternal  air,  much 
freedom  from  cares,  much  health:  let  us  allow  the  horse 
Zephyr,  whose  flanks  puff  as  if  he  had  to  respire  an  atmos- 
phere, breathe,  and  let  us  be  very  ingenious  in  our  little 
calculations.  It  is  time/'  said  D'Artagnan,  "to  form  a 
plan  of  the  campaign,  and,  according  to  the  method  of 
Monsieur  Turenne,  who  has  a  large  head  full  of  all  sorts  of 
good  counsels,  before  the  plan  of  the  campaign,  it  is  advis- 
able to  draw  a  striking  portrait  of  the  generals  to  whom  we 
are  opposed.  In  the  first  place,  Monsieur  Fouquet  presents 
himself.  What  is  Monsieur  Fouquet?  Monsieur  Fouquet," 
replied  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "is  a  handsome  man  very 
winch  beloved  by  the  women,  a  generous  man  very  much 
beloved  by  the  poets;  a  man  of  wit,  much  execrated  by 
pretenders.  Well,  now  I  am  neither  woman,  poet,  nor  pre- 
tender; I  neither  love  nor  hate  Monsieur  le  Surintendant. 
I  find  myself,  therefore,  in  the  same  position  in  which 
Monsieur  de  Turenne  found  himself  when  opposed  to  the 
Prince  de  Conde  at  Jargeau,  Gien,  and  the  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine.  He  did  not  execrate  Monsieur  le  Prince^  it  is 
true,  but  he  obeyed  the  king.  Monsieur  le  Prince  is  an 
agreeable  man,  but  the  king  is  king.  Turenne  heaved  a 
deep  sigh,  called  Condu  'My  cousin,'  and  swept  away  his 
army.     Now,  what  does  the  king  wish?    That  does  not 


424  THE   VICOMTE   DE    BRAGELOSTKE. 

concern  me.  Now,  what  does  Monsieur  Colbert  wish? 
Oh,  that's  another  thing.  Monsieur  Colbert  wishes  all  that 
Monsieur  Fouquet  does  not  wish.  Then,  what  does  Mon- 
sieur Fouquet  wish?  Oh,  that  is  serious;  Monsieur  Fou- 
quet wishes  precisely  for  all  which  the  king  wishes." 

This  monologue  ended,  D'Artagnan  began  to  laugh,  while 
making  his  whip  whistle  in  the  air.  He  was  already  on  the 
highroad,  frightening  the  birds  in  the  hedges,  listening  to 
the  livres  chinking  and  dancing  in  his  leather  pocket  at 
every  step;  and,  let  us  confess  it,  every  time  that  D'Artag- 
nan found  himself  in  such  conditions,  tenderness  was  not 
his  dominant  vice.  "Come,"  said  he,  "I  cannot  think  the 
expedition  a  very  dangerous  one;  and  it  will  fall  out  with 
my  voyage  as  with  that  piece  Monsieur  Monk  took  me  to 
see  in  London,  which  was  called  I  think,  'Much  Ado  About 
Nothing.' " 


CHAPTER    LXVI. 

THE   JOURNEY. 

It  was,  perhaps,  the  fiftieth  time  since  the  day  on  which 
we  opened  this  history,  that  this  man,  with  a  heart  of  bronze 
and  muscles  of  steel,  had  left  house  and  friends,  every- 
thing, in  short,  to  go  in  search  of  fortune  and  death.  The 
one — that  is  to  say,  death — had  constantly  retreated  before 
him,  as  if  afraid  of  him;  the  other — that  is  to  say,  fortune 
— for  a  month  past  only  had  really  made  an  alliance  with 
him.  Although  he  was  not  a  great  philosopher,  after  the 
fashion  of  either  Epicurus  or  Socrates,  he  was  a  powerful 
spirit,  having  knowledge  of  life,  and  endowed  with  thought. 
No  one  is  as  brave,  as  adventurous,  or  as  skillful  as  D'Ar- 
tagnan, without  being  at  the  same  time  inclined  to  be  a 
dreamer.  He  had  picked  up,  here  and  there,  some  scraps 
of  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  worthy  of  being  translated  into 
Latin  by  M.  de  Port  Royal,  and  he  had  made  a  collection, 
en  passant,  in  the  society  of  Athos  and  Aramis,  of  many 
morsels  of  Seneca  and  Cicero,  translated  by  them,  and 
applied  to  the  uses  of  common  life.  That  contempt  of 
riches  which  our  Gascon  had  observed  as  an  article  of  faith 
during  the  thirty-rive  first  years  of  his  life,  had  for  a  long 
time  been  considered  by  him  as  the  first  article  of  the  code 
of  bravery.  "Article  first,"  said  he,  "A  man  is  brave  be- 
cause he  has  nothing.     A  man    has  nothing  because   he 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONKE.  425 

despises  riches."  Therefore,  with  these  principles,  which, 
as  we  have  said,  had  regulated  the  thirty-five  first  years  of 
his  life,  D'Artagnan  was  no  sooner  possessed  of  riches  than 
he  felt  it  necessary  to  ask  himself,  if,  in  spite  of  his  riches, 
he  were  still  brave.  To  this,  for  any  other  but  D'Artag- 
nan, the  events  of  the  Place  de  Greve  might  have  served  as 
a  reply.  Many  consciences  would  have  been  satisfied  with 
them,  but  D'Artagnan  was  brave  enough  to  ask  himself 
sincerely  and  conscientiously  if  he  were  brave.  Therefore 
to  this: 

"But  it  appears  to  me  that  I  drew  promptly  enough,  and 
cut  and  thrust  pretty  freely  on  the  Place  de  Greve,  to  be 
satisfied  of  my  bravery,"  D'Artagnan  had  himself  replied. 
"Gently,  captain,  that  is  not  an  answer.  I  was  brave  that 
day,  because  they  were  burning  my  house,  and  there  are  a 
hundred,  and  even  a  thousand,  to  speak  against  one,  that  if 
those  gentlemen  of  the  riots  had  not  formed  that  unlucky 
idea,  their  plan  of  attack  would  have  succeeded,  or,  at 
least,  it  would  not  have  been  I  who  would  have  opposed 
myself  to  it.  Now,  what  will  be  brought  against  me?  I 
have  no  house  to  be  burned  in  Bretagne;  I  have  no  treasure 
there  that  can  be  taken  from  me.  No;  but  I  have  my  skin; 
that  precious  skin  of  Monsieur  d'Artagnan,  which  to  him  is 
worth  more  than  all  the  houses  and  all  the  treasures  of  the 
world.  That  skin  to  which  I  cling  above  everything,  be- 
cause it  is,  everything  considered,  the  binding  of  a  body 
which  incloses  a  heart  very  warm  and  ready  to  fight,  and, 
consequently,  to  live.  Then,  I  do  desire  to  live;  and,  in 
reality,  I  live  much  better,  more  completely,  since  I  have 
become  richo  Who  the  devil  ever  said  that  money  spoiled 
life!  Upon  my  soul,  it  is  no  such  thing;  on  the  contrary,  it 
seems  as  if  I  absorbed  a  double  quantity  of  air  and  sun. 
Mordioux!  what  will  it  be  then  if  I  double  that  fortune; 
and  if,  instead  of  the  switch  I  now  hold  in  my  hand,  I 
should  ever  carry  the  baton  of  a  marechal?  Then,  I  really 
don't  know  if  there  will  be,  from  that  moment,  enough  of 
air  and  sun  for  me.  In  fact,  this  is  not  a  dream.  Who 
the  devil  would  oppose  it,  if  the  king  made  me  a  marechal, 
as  his  father,  King  Louis  XIII.,  made  a  duke  and  constable 
of  Albert  de  Luynes?  Am  I  not  as  brave,  and  much  more 
intelligent,  than  that  imbecile  De  Vitry?  Ah!  that's 
exactly  what  will  prevent  my  advancement;  I  have  too 
much  wit.  Luckily,  if  there  is  any  justice  in  this  world, 
fortune  owes  me  many  compensations.  She  owes  me,  cer- 
tainly, a  recompense  fer  all  I  did  for  Anne  of  Austria,  and 


426  THE   YTf'OMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

an  indemnification  for  all  she  has  not  done  for  me.  Then, 
at  the  present,  I  am  very  well  with  a  king,  and  with  a  king 
who  has  the  appearance  of  determining  to  reign.  May  God 
keep  him  in  that  illustrious  road!  For,  if  he  is  resolved  to 
reign,  lie  will  want  me,  and  if  he  wants  me,  he  will  give  me 
what  he  has  promised  me — warmth  and  light;  so  that  I 
march,  comparatively,  now,  as  I  marched  formerly — from 
nothing  to  everything.  Only  the  nothing  of  to-day  is  the 
all  of  former  days;  there  has  only  this  little  change  taken 
place  in  my  life.  And  now  let  us  see,  let  us  take  the  part 
of  the  heart,  as  I  just  now  was  speaking  of  it.  But,  in 
truth,  I  only  spoke  of  it  from  memory."  And  the  Gascon 
applied  his  hand  to  his  breast,  as  if  he  were  actually  seek- 
ing the  place  where  his  heart  was. 

"Ah!  wretch!"  murmured  he,  smiling  with  bitterness. 
"Ah!  poor  mortal  species!  You  hoped,  for  an  instant, 
that  you  had  not  a  heart,  and  now  you  find  you  have  one — 
bad  courtier  as  thou  art — and  even  one  of  the  most  sedi- 
tious. You  have  a  heart  which  speaks  to  you  in  favor  of 
Monsieur  Fouquet. 

"And  what  is  Monsieur  Fouquet  when  the  king  is  in 
question?  A  conspirator,  a  real  conspirator,  who  did  not 
even  give  himself  the  trouble  to  conceal  his  being  a  con- 
spirator; therefore,what  a  weapon  would  you  not  have  against 
him,  if  his  good  grace  and  his  intelligence  had  not  made  a 
scabbard  for  that  weapon.  An  armed  revolt — for,  in  fact, 
Monsieur  Fouquet  has  been  guilty  of  an  armed  revolt. 
Thus,  while  the  king  vaguely  suspects  Monsieur  Fouquet 
of  rebellion,  I  know  it — I  could  prove  that  Monsieur  Fou- 
quet has  caused  the  shedding  of  the  blood  of  his  majesty's 
subjects.  Xow,  then,  let  us  see.  Knowing  all  that,  and 
holding  my  tongue,  what  further  would  this  heart  wish  in 
return  for  a  kind  action  of  Monsieur  Fouquet,  for  an  ad- 
vance of  fifteen  thousand  livres,  for  a  diamond  worth  a 
thousand  pistoles,  for  a  smile  in  which  there  was  as  much 
bitterness  as  kindness?     I  save  his  life. 

"Now,  then,  I  hope,"  continued  the  musketeer,  "that 
this  imbecile  of  a  heart  is  going  to  preserve  silence,  and  so 
be  fairly  quits  with  Monsieur  Fouquet.  Now,  then,  the 
king  becomes  my  sun,  and  as  my  heart  is  quits  with  M. 
Fouquet,  let  him  beware  who  places  himself  between  me 
and  my  sun!  Forward,  for  His  Majesty  Louis  XIV.!  For- 
ward!" 

These  reflections  were  the  only  impediments  which  were 
able  to  retard  the  progress  of  U'Artagnan.     These  reflec- 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  42? 

fcions  onca  made,  he  increased  the  speed  of  his  horse.  But, 
however  perfect  his  horse  Zephyr  might  be,  it  could  not 
hold  out  at  such  a  pace  forever.  The  day  after  his  depar- 
ture from  Paris,  he  was  left  at  Chartres,  at  the  house  of  an 
old  friend  D'Artagnan  had  met  with  in  a  hotelier  of  that 
city.  From  that  moment  the  musketeer  traveled  on  post- 
horsas.  Thanks  to  this  mode  of  locomotion,  he  traversed 
the  space  which  separates  Chartres  from  Chateaubriand. 
In  the  last  of  these  two  cities,  far  enough  from  the  coast  to 
prevent  any  one  guessing  that  D'Artagnan  wished  to  reach 
the  sea — far  enough  from  Paris  to  prevent  all  suspicion  of 
his  being  a  messenger  from  Louis  XIV.,  whom  D'Artagnan 
had  called  his  sun,  without  suspecting  that  he  was  only  at 
present  a  rather  poor  star  in  the  heaven  of  royalty,  would, 
jne  day,  make  that  star  his  emblem,  the  messenger  of 
Louis  XIV.,  we  say,  quitted  the  post  and  purchased  a  bidet 
of  the  meanest  appearance,  one  of  those  animals  which  an 
officer  of  cavalry  would  never  choose,  for  fear  of  being  dis- 
graced. Excepting  the  color,  this  new  acquisition  recalled 
to  the  mind  of  D'Artagnan  the  famous  orange-colored 
horse  with  which,  or  rather,  upon  which,  he  had  made  his 
first  appearance  in  the  world.  Truth  to  say,  from  the 
moment  he  crossed  this  new  steed,  it  was  no  longer  D'Ar- 
tagnan who  was  traveling,  it  was  a  good  man  clothed  in  an 
iron-gray  justau-corps,  brown  haut-de-chausses,  holding  the 
medium  between  a  priest  and  a  layman;  that  which  brought 
him  nearest  to  the  churchman  was  that  D'Artagnan  had 
placed  on  his  head  a  calotte  of  threadbare  velvet,  and  over 
the  calotte,  a  large  black  hat;  no  more  sword;  a  stick,  hung 
by  a  cord  to  his  wrist,  but  to  which,  he  promised  himself, 
as  an  unexpected  auxiliary,  to  join,  upon  occasion,  a  good 
dagger,  ten  inches  long,  concealed  under  his  cloak.  The 
bidet  purchased  at  Chateaubriand  completed  the  metamor- 
phosis; it  was  called,  or,  rather,  D'Artagnan  called  it, 
Furet  (ferret). 

"If  I  have  changed  Zephyr  into  Furet,"  said  D^Artag- 
nan,  "I  must  make  some  diminutive  or  other  of  my  own 
name.  So,  instead  of  D'Artagnan,  I  will  be  Agnan,  short; 
that  is  a  concession  which  I  naturally  owe  to  my  gray  coat, 
my  round  hat,  and  my  rusty  calotte." 

M.  d'Artagnan  traveled,  then,  pretty  easily  upon  Furet, 
who  ambled  like  a  true  butter-woman's  pad,  and  who,  with 
his  amble,  managed  cheerfully  about  twelve  leagues  a  day 
upon  four  spiudle-shanks  of  which  the  practiced  eye  of 
jD'Artagnan  had  appreciated  the  strength  and  safety  be- 


428  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

neath  the  thick  mass  of  huir  which  covered  them.  Jogging 
along,  the  traveler  took  notes,  studied  the  country,  which 
he  travered  reserved  and  silent,  ever  seeking  the  pretext 
the  most  plausible  to  go  to  Belle-Isle-eu-Mer,  and  to  see 
everything  without  arousing  suspicion.  In  this  manner 
he  was  enabled  to  convince  himself  of  the  importance  the 
event  assumed  in  proportion  as  he  drew  near  to  it.  In  this 
remote  country,  in  this  ancient  Duchy  of  Bretagne,  which 
was  not  France  at  that  period,  and  is  not  even  so  now,  the 
people  knew  nothing  of  the  King  of  France.  They  not 
only  did  not  know  him,  but  were  unwilling  to  know  him 
One  fact — a  single  one — floated  visibly  for  them  upon  the 
political  current.  Their  ancient  dukes  no  longer  governed 
them;  but  it  was  void — nothing  more.  In  the  place  of  the 
sovereign  duke,  the  seigneurs  of  parishes  reigned  without 
control;  and,  above  these  seigneurs,  God,  who  has  never  been 
forgotten  in  Bretagne.  Among  these  suzerains  of  chateaus 
and  belfries,  the  most  powerful,  the  most  rich  and  the  most 
popular,  was  M.  Fouquet,  seigneur  of  Belle-Isle.  Even  in 
the  country,  even  within  sight  of  that  mysterious  isle, 
legends  and  traditions  consecrate  its  wonders.  Every  one 
did  not  penetrate  into  it;  the  isle,  of  an  extent  of  six 
leagues  in  length,  and  six  in  breadth,  was  a  seignorial  prop- 
erty, which  the  people  had  for  a  long  time  respected,  cov- 
ered as  it  was  with  the  name  of  Eetz,  so  much  redoubted  in 
the  country.  Shortly  after  the  erection  of  this  seigneurie 
into  a  marquisate,  Belle-Isle  passed  to  M.  Fouquet.  The 
celebrity  of  the  isle  did  not  date  from  yesterday;  its  name, 
or,  rather,  its  qualifications,  is  traced  back  to  the  remotest 
antiquity;  the  ancients  called  it  Kalonese,  from  two  Greek 
words  signifying  beautiful  isle.  Thus,  at  a  distance  of 
eighteen  hundred  years,  it  had  borne,  in  another  idiom  the 
same  name  it  still  bears.  There  was,  then,  something  in 
itself  in  this  property  of  M.  Fouquet's,  besides  its  position 
of  six  leagues  off  the  coast  of  France;  a  position  which 
makes  it  a  sovereign  in  its  maritime  solitude,  like  a  majestic 
ship  which  should  disdain  roads,  and  would  proudly  cast 
its  anchors  in  mid-ocean. 

D'Artagnan  learned  all  this  without  appearing  the  least 
in  the  world  astonished.  He  also  learned  that  the  best  way 
to  get  intelligence  was  to  go  to  La  Roche  Bernard,  a  tolera- 
bly important  city  at  the  mouth  of  the  Vilaine.  Perhaps 
there  he  could  embark;  if  not,  c.ossing  the  salt  marshes, 
he  would  repair  to  Guerande  en  Croisic,  to  wait  for  an  op- 
portunity to  cross  over  to  Belle-Isle.     He  had  discovered, 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  42$ 

besides,  since  his  departure  from  Chateau briaud,  that  noth- 
ing would  be  impossible  for  Furet  under  the  impulsion  of 
M.  Agnan,  and  nothing  to  M.  Agnan  upon  the  initiative  of 
Furet.  He  prepared,  then,  to  sup  off  a  teal  and  a  tourteau 
in  a  hotel  of  La  Roche  Bernard,  and  ordered  to  be  brought 
from  the  cellar,  to  wash  down  these  two  Breton  dishes, 
some  cider,  which,  the  moment  it  touched  his  lips,  he  per- 
ceived to  be  more  Breton  still. 


CHAPTER.  LXVI1 

HOW  D'ARTAGNAN  BECAME  ACQUAINTED  WITH  A  POET  WHC 
HAD  TURNED  PRINTER  FOR  THE  SAKE  OF  PRINTING 
HIS    OWN    VERSES. 

Before  taking  his  place  at  table,  D'Artagnan  acquired, 
as  was  his  custom,  all  the  information  he  could;  but  it  is  an 
axiom  of  curiosity  that  every  man  who  wishes  to  question 
well  and  fruitfully  ought  in  the  first  place  to  lay  himself 
open  to  questions.  D'Artagnan  sought,  then,  with  his 
usual  skill,  a  useful  questioner  in  the  hostelry  of  La  Roche 
Bernard.  At  the  moment,  there  were  in  the  house,  in  the 
first  story,  two  travelers  occupied  also  in  preparations  for 
supper,  or  with  their  supper  itself.  D'Artagnan  had  seen 
their  nags  in  the  stable  and  their  equipages  in  the  salle. 
One  traveled  with  a  lackey,  as  a  sort  of  personage;  two 
Perche  mares,  sleek,  sound  beasts,  were  their  means  of  loco- 
motion. The  other,  rather  a  little  fellow,  a  traveler  of 
meager  appearance,  wearing  a  dusty  surtout,  dirty  linen, 
boots  more  worn  by  the  pavement  thau  the  stirrup,  had 
come  from  Nantes  with  a  cart  drawn  by  a  horse  so  like 
Furet  in  color  that  D'Artagnan  might  have  gone  a  hundred 
miles  without  finding  a  better  match.  This  cart  contained 
divers  large  packets  wrapped  up  in  pieces  of  old  stuff. 

''That  traveler  there,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "is 
the  man  for  my  money.  He  will  do,  he  suits  me;  I  ought 
to  do  for  and  suit  him.  Monsieur  Agnan,  with  the  gray 
doublet  and  the  rusty  calotte  is  not  unworthy  of  supping 
with  the  gentleman  of  the  old  boots  and  the  old  horse." 
This  being  said,  D'Artagnan  called  the  host  and  desired 
him  to  send  his  teal,  tourteau,  and  cider  up  to  the  chamber 
of  the  gentleman  of  modest  exterior.  He  himself  climbed, 
a  plate  in  his  hand,  the  wooden  staircase  which  led  tc  the 
chamber^  and  began  to  knock  at  the  door. 


430  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE. 

"Come  in!"  said  the  unknown.  D'Artagnan  entered, 
with  a  simper  on  his  lips,  his  plate  under  his  arm.  his  hat 
in  one  hand,  his  candle  in  the  other. 

"Excuse  me,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "I  am,  as  you  are,  a 
traveler;  I  know  no  one  in  the  hotel,  and  I  have  the  bad 
habit  of  losing  my  spirits  when  I  eat  alone,  so  that  my  re- 
past  appears  a  bad  one  to  me,  and  does  not  nourish  me. 
Your  face,  which  I  saw  just  now,  when  you  came  down  to 
have  some  oysters  opened,  your  face  pleased  me  much.  Be- 
sides, I  have  observed  you  have  a  horse  just  like  mine,  and 
that  the  host,  no  doubt  on  account  of  that  resemblance,  has 
placed  them  side  by  side  in  the  stable,  Avhere  they  appear 
to  agree  amazingly  well  together.  I  therefore,  monsieur, 
cannot  see  why  the  masters  should  be  separated  when  the 
horses  are  united.  In  consequence,  I  am  come  to  request 
the  pleasure  of  being  admitted  to  your  table.  My  name  is 
Agnan,  at  your  service,  monsieur,  the  unworthy  steward  of 
a  rich  seigneur,  who  wishes  to  purchase  some  salt  mines  in 
this  country,  and  sends  me  to  examine  his  future  acquisi- 
tions. In  truth,  monsieur,  I  should  be  well  pleased  if  my 
countenance  were  as  agreeable  to  you  as  yours  is  to  me;  for, 
upon  my  honor,  I  am  quite  yours." 

The  stranger,  whom  D'Artagnan  saw  for  the  first  time — 
for  before  he  had  only  caught  a  glimpse  of  him — the 
stranger  had  black  and  brilliant  eyes,  a  yellow  complexion, 
a  brow  a  little  wrinkled  by  the  weight  of  fifty  years,  bon- 
homie in  his  features  collectively,  but  a  little  cunning  in 
his  look. 

"One  would  say,"  thought  D'Artagnan,  "that  this  merry 
fellow  has  never  exercised  more  than  the  upper  part  of  his 
head,  his  eyes,  and  his  brain.  He  must  be  a  man  of  science; 
his  mouth,  nose,  and  chin  signify  absolutely  nothing." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  latter,  with  whose  mind  and 
person  we  have  been  making  so  free,  "you  do  me  much 
honor;  not  that  I  am  ever  ennuye,  for  I  have,"  added  he, 
smiling,  "a  company  which  amuses  me  always;  but  never 
mind  that,  I  am  very  happy  to  receive  you."  But  when 
saying  this,  the  man  with  the  worn  boots  cast  an  uneasy 
look  at  his  table,  from  which  the  oysters  had  disappeared, 
and  upon  which  there  was  nothing  left  but  a  morsel  of  salt 
bacon. 

"Monsieur,"  D'Artagnan  hastened  to  say,  "the  host  is 
bringing  me  up  a  pretty  piece  of  roasted  poultry  and  a 
superb  tourteau."  D'Artagnan  had  read  in  the  look  of  his 
companion,  however  rapid  it  had  been,  the  fear  of  an  attack 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE,  43? 

by  a  parasite;  he  divined  justly.  At  this  opening,  the 
features  of  the  man  of  modest  exterior  relaxed;  and,  as  if 
he  had  watched  the  moment  for  his  entrance,  as  D'Artagnan 
spoke,  the  host  appeared,  bearing  the  announced  dishes. 
The  tourteau  and  the  teal  were  added  to  the  morsel  of 
broiled  bacon;  D'Artagnan  and  his  guest  bowed,  sat  down 
opposite  to  each  other,  and,  like  two  brothers,  shared  the 
Dacon  and  the  other  dishes. 

"Monsieur,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "you  must  confess  that 
association  is  a  wonderful  thing." 

"How  so?"  replied  the  stranger,  with  his  mouth  full, 

"Well,  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  D'Artagnan. 

The  stranger  gave  a  short  truce  to  the  movement  of  his 
'aws,  in  order  to  hear  the  better. 

"In  the  first  place,"  continued  D'Artagnan,  "instead  of 
one  candle,  which  each  of  us  had,  we  have  two." 

"That  is  true!"  said  the  stranger,  struck  with  the  ex- 
treme justness  of  the  observation. 

"Then  I  see  that  you  eat  my  tourteau  in  preference, 
while  I,  in  preference,  eat  your  bacon." 

"That  is  true  again." 

"And  then,  in  addition  to  being  better  lighted  and  eat- 
ing what  we  prefer,  I  place  the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

"Truly,  monsieur,  you  are  very  jovial,"  said  the  un- 
known cheerfully. 

"Yes,  monsieur;  jovial,  as  all  people  are  who  carry  noth- 
ing in  their  heads.  Oh!  I  can  see  it  is  quite  another  sort  of 
thing  with  you,"  continued  D'Artagnan;  "I  can  read  in 
your  eyes  all  sorts  of  genius." 

"Oh,  monsieur!" 

"Come,  confess  one  thing." 

"What  is  that?" 
'That  you  are  a  learned  man." 

"Ma  foi !  monsieur-" 

"Hevn?" 

"Almost." 

"Come,  then!" 

"I  am  an  author." 

"There!"  cried  D'Artagnan,  clapping  his  hands,  "I  knew 
1  could  not  be  deceived!    It  is  a  miracle!" 

"Monsieur " 

"What!  shall  I  have  the  honor  of  passing  the  evening  in 
the  society  of  an  author,  of  a  celebrated  author,  perhaps?" 

"Oh!"  said  the  unknown,  blushing,  "celebrated,  mon- 
sieur, celebrated  is  not  the  word." 


432  THE  YICOMTE  frE  BKA  (VELO-N^  E. 

"Modest!"  cried  DArtagnan,  transported,  "he  if 
modest!"  Then,  turning  toward  the  stranger,  with  a 
character  of  blunt  bonhomie:  "But  tell  me  at  least  the 
name  of  your  works,  monsieur;  for  you  will  please  observe 
you  have  not  told  me  yours,  and  I  have  been  iorcad  to 
divine  your  genius." 

"My  name  is  Jupenet,  monsieur,"  said  the  author. 

"A  fine  name!  a  fine  name!  upon  my  honor;  and  I  do 
not  know  why — pardon  me  the  mistake,  if  it  be  one— but 
surely  I  have  heard  that  name  somewhere." 

"I  have  made  verses,"  said  the  poet  modestly. 

"Ah!  that  is  it,  then;  I  have  heard  them  read." 

"A  tragedy." 

"I  must  have  seen  it  played." 

The  poet  blushed  again,  and  said:  "I  do  not  think  that 
can  be  the  case,  for  my  verses  have  not  been  printed." 

"Well,  then,  it  must  have  been  the  tragedy  which  in- 
formed me  of  your  name." 

"You  are  again  mistaken,  for  MM.  the  comedians  of  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it," 
said  the  poet,  with  the  smile  of  which  certain  sorts  of  pride 
alone  know  the  secret.  D'Artagnan  bit  his  lips.  "Thus, 
then,  you  see,  monsieur,"  continued  the  poet,  "you  are  in 
error  on  my  account,  and  that  not  being  at  all  known  to 
you,  you  have  never  heard  speak  of  me." 

"And  that  confounds  me.  That  name,  Jupenet,  appears 
to"  me,  nevertheless,  a  fine  name,  and  quite  as  worthy  of 
being  known  as  those  of  MM.  Corneille,  or  Rotrou,  or 
Gamier.  I  hope,  monsieur,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to 
repeat  to  me  a  part  of  your  tragedy  presently,  by  way  of 
dessert,  for  instance.  That  will  be  sugared  roast  meat, 
mordioiix!  Ah!  pardon  me,  monsieur,  that  was  a  little 
oath  which  escaped  me,  because  it  is  a  habit  with  my  lord 
and  master.  I  sometimes  allow  myself  to  usurp  that  little 
oath,  as  it  seems  in  good  taste.  I  take  this  liberty  only  in 
his  absence,  please  to  observe,  for  you  may  understand  that 
in  his  presence — but,  in  truth " 

"Monsieur,  this  cider  is  abominable;  do  you  not  think 
so?  And,  besides,  the  pot  is  of  such  an  irregular  shape  it 
will  not  stand  on  the  table." 

"Suppose  we  were  to  make  it  level?" 

"To  be  sure;  but  with  what?" 

"With  this  knife." 

"And  the  teal,  with  what  shall  we  cut  that  up?  Do  you 
not,  by  chance,  mean  to  touch  the  teal?" 


THE   YICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  433 

•'Certainly," 

"Well,  then " 

"Wait." 

And  the  poet  rummaged  in  his  pocket,  and  drew  out  a 
piece  of  brass,  oblong,  quadrangular,  about  a  line  in  thick- 
ness, and  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length.  But  scarcely  had 
this  little  piece  of  brass  seen  the  light,  than  the  poet  ap- 
peared to  have  committed  an  imprudence,  and  made  a  move- 
ment to  put  it  back  again  in  his  pocket.  D'Artagnan  per- 
ceived this,  for  he  was  a  man  nothing  escaped.  He 
stretched  forth  his  hand  toward  the  piece  of  brass: 
"Humph!  that  which  you  hold  in  your  hand  is  pretty;  will 
you  allow  me  to  look  at  it?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  poet,  who  appeared  to  have  yielded 
too  soon  to  a  first  impulse.  "Certainly,  you  may  look  at  it; 
but  it  will  be  in  vain  for  you  to  look  at  it,"  added  he,  with 
a  satisfied  air;  "if  I  were  not  to  tell  you  the  use  of  that, 
you  would  never  guess  it." 

D'Artagnan  had  seized  as  an  avowal  the  hesitation  of  the 
poet,  and  his  eagerness  to  conceal  the  piece  of  brass  which 
a  first  movement  had  induced  him  to  take  out  of  his  pocket. 
His  attention,  therefore,  once  awakened  on  this  point,  he 
surrounded  himself  with  a  circumspection  which  gave  him 
a  superiority  upon  all  occasions.  Besides,  whatever  M. 
Jupenet  might  say  about  it,  by  the  simple  inspection  of  the 
object,  he  had  perfectly  known  what  it  was.  It  was  a 
character  in  printing. 

"Can  you  guess  now  what  this  is?"  continued  the  poet. 

"No,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "no,  ma  foi  !" 

"Well,  monsieur,"  said  M.  Jupenet,  "this  little  piece  of 
brass  is- a  printing  letter." 

"Bah!" 

"A  capital." 

"Stop,  stop,  stop,"  said  D'Artagnan,  opening  his  eyes 
very  innocently. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  a  capital;  the  first  letter  of  my  name." 

"And  this  is  a  letter,  is  it?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Well,  I  will  confess  one  thing  to  you." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"No,  I  will  not.  I  was  going  to  say  something  verj 
stupid." 

"No,  no,"  said  Master  Jupenet,  with  a  patronizing  air. 

"Well,  then,  I  cannot  comprehend,  if  that  is  a  letter, 
how  you  cau  make  a  word." 


434  THE    VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"A  word?" 

"Yes,  a  printed  word." 

"Oh,  that's  very  easy." 

"Let  me  see." 

"Does  it  interest  you?" 

"Enormously." 

"Well,  I  will  explain  the  thing  to  you.     Attend." 

"I  am  attending." 

"That  is  it." 

"Good." 

"Look  attentively." 

"I  am  looking."  D'Artagnan,  in  fact,  appeared  absorbed 
in  his  observations.  Jupenet  drew  from  his  pocket  seven  or 
eight  other  pieces  of  brass,  but  smaller  than  the  first. 

"Ah,  ah,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"What!" 

"You  have,  then,  a  whole  printing  office  in  your  pocket. 
Peste!  that  is  curious  indeed." 

"Is  it  not?" 

"Good  God,  what  a  number  of  things  we  learn  by 
traveling!" 

"To  your  health  "  said  Jupenet,  quite  enchanted. 

"To  yours,  mordioux!  to  yours.  But — an  instant — not 
in  this  cider.  It  is  an  abominable  drink,  unworthy  of  a 
man  who  quenches  his  thirst  at  the  Hippocrene  fountain — 
is  not  it  so  you  call  your  fountains,  you  poets?" 

"Yes,  monsieur,  our  fountain  is  so  called.  That  comes 
from  two  Greek  words — hippos,  which  means  a  horse, 
and " 

"Monsieur,"  interrupted  D'Artagnan,  "you  shall  drink 
of  a  liquor  which  comes  from  one  single  French  word,  and 
is  none  the  worse  for  that — from  the  word  grape;  this  cider 
gives  me  the  heartburn.  Allow  me  to  inquire  of  your  host 
if  there  is  not  a  good  bottle  of  Beangency,  or  of  the  Ceran 
growth,  at  the  back  of  the  large  bins  of  his  cellar." 

The  host,  being  called,  immediately  attended. 

"Monsieur,"  interrupted  the  poet,  "take  care;  we  shall 
not  have  time  to  drink  the  wine,  unless  we  make  great 
haste,  for  I  must  take  advantage  of  the  tide  to  secure  the 
boat." 

"What  boat?"  asked  D'Artagnan. 

"Why,  the  boat  which  sets  out  for  Belle-Isle." 

"Ah!  for  Belle-Isle,"  said  the  musketeer,  "that  is  good." 

"Bah:  you  will  have  plenty  of  time,  monsieur,"  replied 
the  hotelier',  uncorking  the  bottle,  "the  boat  will  not  leave 
this  hour." 


THE  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELOtftfE.  435 

"But  who  will  give  me  notice?"  said  the  poet. 

"Your  neighbor,"  replied  the  host. 

"But  I  scarcely  know  him." 

"When  you  hear  him  going,  it  will  be  time  for  you  to  go." 

"Is  he  going  to  Belle-Isle,  likewise,  then?" 

"Yes." 

"The  monsieur  who  has  a  lackey?"  asked  D'Artagnan. 
"He  is  some  gentleman,  no  doubt?" 

"I  know  nothing  of  him." 

"How!  know  nothing  of  him?" 

"No;  all  I  know  is,  that  he  is  drinking  the  same  wine  as 
you." 

"Peste  f  that  is  a  great  honor  for  us,"  said  D'Artagnan, 
filling  his  companion's  glass,  while  the  host  went  out. 

"So,"  resumed  the  poet,  returning  to  his  dominant  ideas, 
"you  never  saw  any  printing  done?" 

"Never." 

"Well,  then,  take  the  letters  thus,  which  compose  the 
word,  you  see;  A  B;  ma  foil  here  is  an  R,  two  EE,  then  a 
G."  And  he  assembled  the  letters  with  a  swiftness  and 
skill  which  did  not  escape  the  eye  of  D'Artagnan. 

"Abrege,*'  said  he,  as  he  ended. 

"Good!"  said  D'Artagnan;  "here  are  plenty  of  letters 
got  together;  but  how  are  they  kept  so?"  And  he  poured 
out  a  second  glass  for  the  poet.  M.  Jupenet  smiled  like  a 
man  who  has  an  answer  for  everything;  then  he  pulled  out 
— still  from  his  pocket — a  little  metal  ruler,  composed  of 
two  parts,  like  a  carpenter's  rule,  against  which  he  put  to- 
gether, and  in  a  line,  the  characters,  holding  them  under 
his  left  thumb. 

"And  what  do  you  call  that  little  metal  ruler?"  said 
D'Artagnan,  "for,  I  suppose,  all  these  things  have  names.' 

"This  is  called  a  composing-stick,"  said  Jupenet;  "it  is 
by  the  aid  of  this  stick  that  the  lines  are  formed. 'r 

"Come,  then,  I  was  not  mistaken  in  what  I  said;  you 
have  a  press  in  your  pocket,"  said  D'Artagnan,  laughing 
with  an  air  of  simplicity  so  stupid  that  the  poet  was  com- 
pletely his  dupe. 

"No,"  replied  he;  "but  I  am  too  lazy  to  write,  and  when 
I  have  a  verse  in  my  head  I  print  it  immediately.  That  is 
a  labor  spared." 

"Mordiouxl"  thought  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "this  must 
be  cleared  up."  And  under  a  pretext,  which  did  not  em- 
barrass the  musketeer,  who  was  fertile  in  expedients,  he  left 
the  table,  went  downstairs,  ran  to  the  shed  under  which 


436  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAOELONNE. 

stood  the  poet's  little  cart,  poked  the  point  of  his  poniard 
into  the  stuff  which  enveloped  one  of  the  packages,  which 
he  found  full  of  types,  like  those  which  the  poet  had  in  his 
pocket. 

"Humph!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  do  not  yet  know  whether 
Monsieur  Fouquet  wishes  to  fortify  Belle-Isle;  but,  at  all 
events,  here  are  some  spiritual  munitions  for  the  castle." 
Then,  rich  in  his  discovery,  he  ran  upstairs  again  and  re- 
sumed his  place  at  the  table. 

D'Artagnan  had  learned  what  he  wished  to  know.  He, 
however,  remained,  none  the  less,  face  to  face  with  his 
partner,  to  the  moment  when  they  heard  from  the  next 
room  symptoms  of  a  person's  being  about  to  go  out.  The 
printer  was  immediately  on  foot;  he  had  given  orders  for 
his  horse  to  be  got  ready.  His  carriage  was  waiting  at  the 
door.  The  second  traveler  got  into  his  saddle,  in  the  court- 
yard, with  his  lackey.  D'Artagnan  followed  Jupenet  to 
the  door;  he  embarked  his  cart  and  horse  on  board  the 
boat.  As  to  the  opulent  traveler,  he  did  the  same  with  his 
two  horses  and  his  servant.  But  all  the  wit  D'Artagnan 
employed  in  endeavoring  to  find  out  his  name  was  lost — he 
could  learn  nothing.  Only  he  took  such  notice  of  his  coun- 
tenance that  that  countenance  was  impressed  upon  his  mind 
forever.  D'Artagnan  had  a  great  inclination  to  embark 
with  the  two  travelers,  but  an  interest,  more  powerful  than 
curiosity — that  of  success — repelled  him  from  the  shore, 
and  brought  him  back  again  to  the  hotellerie.  He  entered 
with  a  sigh,  and  went  to  bed  directly,  in  order  to  be  ready 
early  in  the  morning  with  fresh  ideas  and  the  counsel  of 
the  night. 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

D'ARTAGNAN   CONTINUES  HIS   INVESTIGATIONS. 

At  daybreak  D'Artagnan  saddled  Furet,  who  had  fared 
sumptuously  all  the  night,  and  devoured  the  remainder  of 
the  corn  left  by  her  companions.  The  musketeer  sifted 
all  he  could  out  of  the  host,  whom  he  found  cunning,  mis- 
trustful, and  devoted,  body  and  soul  to  M.  Fouquet.  In 
order  then  not  to  awaken  the  suspicions  of  this  man,  he 
carried  on  his  fable  of  being  a  probable  purchaser  of  some 
salt  mines.  To  have  embarked  for  Belle-Isle  at  Eoche 
Bernard  would  have  been  to'  expose  himself  to  comments 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  437 

which  had,  perhaps,  been  already  made,  and  would  be  car- 
ried to  the  castle.  Moreover,  it  was  singular  that  this 
traveler  and  his  lackey  should  have  remained  a  secret  for 
D'Artagnan,  in  spite  of  all  the  questions  addressed  by  him 
to  the  host,  who  appeared  to  know  him  perfectly  well.  The 
musketeer  then  made  some  inquiries  concerning  the  salt 
mines,  and  took  the  road  to  the  marshes,  leaving  the  sea  to 
his  right,  and  penetrating  into  that  vast  and  desolate  plain 
which  resembles  a  sea  of  mud,  of  which,  here  and  there,  a 
few  crests  of  salt  silver  the  undulations.  Furet  walked 
admirably,  with  his  little  nervous  legs,  along  the  foot-wide 
causeways  which  separate  the  salt  mines.  D'Artagnan, 
aware  of  the  consequences  of  a  fall,  which  would  result  in  a 
cold  bath,  allowed  him  to  go  as  he  liked,  contenting  him- 
self with  looking  at,  in  the  horizon,  the  three  rocks,  which 
rose  up  like  lance-blades  from  the  bosom  of  the  plain,  desti- 
tute of  verdure.  Pirial,  the  bourgs  of  Batz  and  Le  Croisic, 
exactly  resembling  each  other,  attracted  and  suspended  his 
attention.  If  the  traveler  turned  round,  the  better  to  make 
his  observations,  he  saw  on  the  other  side  a  horizon  of  three 
other  steeples,  Guerande,  Le  Poulighen,  and  St.  Joachim, 
which,  in  their  circumference,  represented  a  set  of  skittles, 
of  which  he  and  Furet  were  but  the  wandering  ball.  Pirial 
was  the  first  little  port  on  his  right.  He  went  thither,  with 
the  names  of  the  principle  salters  in  his  mouth.  At  the 
moment  he  visited  the  littL  port  of  Pirial,  five  large  barges, 
laden  with  stone,  were  leaving  it.  It  apppeared  strange  to 
D'Artagnan  that  stones  should  be  leaving  a  country  where 
none  are  found.  He  had  recourse  to  all  the  amenity  of  M. 
Agnan  to  learn  from  the  people  of  the  port  the  cause  of 
this  singularity.  An  old  fisherman  replied  to  M.  Agnan, 
that  the  stones,  very  certainly,  did  not  come  from  Pirial  or 
the  marshes. 

"Where  do  they  come  from,  then?"  asked  the  musketeer. 

^'Monsieur,  they  come  from  Nantes  and  Paimbceuf." 

"Where  are  they  going,  then?" 

"Monsieur,  to  Belle  Isle." 

"Ah!  ah!"  said  D'Artagnan,  in  the  same  tone  he  had 
assumed  to  tell  the  printer  that  his  character  interested  him; 
"are  they  building  at  Belle  Isle,  then?" 

"Why,  yes,  monsieur,  Monsieur  Fouquet  has  the  walls  of 
the  castle  repaired  every  year." 

"Is  it  in  ruins,  then?" 

"It  is  old." 

"Thank  you.     The  fact  is/'  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself, 


438  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXNE. 

"nothing  is  more  natural;  every  proprietor  has  a  right  to 
repair  his  property.  It  would  be  like  telling  me  I  was  for- 
tifying the  Image  de  Notre  Dame,  when  I  should  he  purely 
and  simply  obliged  to  make  repairs.  In  good  truth,  I  be- 
lieve false  reports  have  been  made  to  his  majesty,  and  he  is 
very  likely  to  be  in  the  wrong." 

"You  must  confess,"  continued  he  then,  aloud,  and  ad- 
dressing the  fisherman — for  his  part  of  a  suspicious  man  was 
imposed  upon  him  by  the  object  even  of  his  mission — "you 
must  confess,  my  dear  monsieur,  that  these  stones  travel  in 
a  very  curious  fashion." 

"How  so?"  said  the  fisherman. 

"They  come  from  Nantes  or  Paimboeuf  by  the  Loire,  do 
they  not?" 

"That  descends." 

"That  is  convenient,  I  don't  say  it  is  not;  but  why  do 
they  not  go  straight  from  St.  Nazaire  to  Belle-Isle?" 

"Eh!  because  the  chalands  (barges)  are  bad  boats,  and 
keep  the  sea  badly,"  replied  the  fisherman. 

"That  is  not  a  reason." 

"Pardon  me,  monsieur,  one  may  see  that  you  have  never 
been  a  sailor,"  added  the  fisherman,  not  without  a  sort  of 
disdain. 

"Explain  that  to  me,  if  you  please,  my  good  man.  It 
appears  to  me  that  to  come  from  Paimboeuf  to  Pirial,  and 
go  from  Pirial  to  Belle-Isle,  is  as  if  we  went  from  Roche 
Bernard  to  Nantes,  and  from  Nantes  to  Pirial." 

"By  water  that  would  be  the  nearest  way,"  replied  the 
fisherman  imperturbably. 

"But  there  is  an  elbow."  The  fisherman  shook  his  head. 
"The  shortest  road  from  one  place  to  another  is  a  straight 
line,"  continued  D'Artagnan. 

"You  forget  the  tide,  monsieur." 

"Well,  take  the  tide." 

"And  the  wind." 

"Well,  and  the  wind." 

"Without  doubt,  the  current  of  the  Loire  carries  barks 
almost  as  far  as  Croisic.  If  they  want  to  lie  by  a  little,  or 
to  refresh  the  crew,  they  come  to  Pirial  along  the  coast; 
from  Pirial  they  find  another  inverse  current,  which  car- 
ries them  to  the  Isle  Dumal,  two  leagues  and  a  half." 

"Granted." 

"There  the  current  of  the  Vilaine  throws  them  upon  an- 
other isle,  the  isle  of  Hoedic." 

"I  agree  to  that." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  4B9 

"Well,  monsieur,  from  that  isle  to  Belle-Isle  the  way  is 
quite  straight.  The  sea,  broken  both  above  and  below, 
passes  like  a  canal — like  a  mirror  between  the  two  isles;  the 
chalands  glide  along  upon  it  like  ducks  upon  the  Loire; 
that  is  it." 

"It  does  not  signify,"  said  the  obstinate  M.  Agnan;  "it 
is  very  far  about." 

"Ah!  yes;  but  Monsieur  Fouquet  will  have  it  so,"  re- 
plied, as  conclusive,  the  fisherman,  taking  off  his  woolen 
cap  at  the  enunciation  of  that  respected  name. 

A  look  from  D'Artagnan,  a  look  as  keen  and  piercing  as 
a  sword-blade,  found  nothing  in  the  heart  of  the  old  man 
but  simple  confidence  on  his  features,  nothing  but  satisfac- 
tion and  indifference.  He  said  "Monsieur  Fouquet  will 
have  it  so,"  as  he  would  have  said  "God  has  willed  it." 

D'Artagnan  had  already  advanced  too  far  in  this  direction; 
besides,  the  chalands  being  gone,  there  remained  nothing 
at  Pirial  but  a  single  bark — that  of  the  old  man,  and  it  did 
not  look  fit  for  sea  without  great  preparation.  D'Artagnan 
therefore  aroused  Furet,  who,  as  a  new  proof  of  his  charm- 
ing character,  resumed  his  march  with  his  feet  in  the  salt 
mines,  and  his  nose  to  the  dry  wind,  which  bends  the  furze 
and  the  broom  of  this  country.  He  reached  Croisic  about 
five  o'clock. 

If  D'Artagnan  had  been  a  poet,  it  was  a  beautiful  spec- 
tacle that  of  the  immense  strand  of  a  league  or  more,  which 
the  sea  covers  at  high  tides,  and  which,  at  the  reflux,  ap- 
pears gray,  desolate,  spread  over  with  polypuses  and  sea- 
weed, with  its  pebbles  dispersed  and  white,  like  the  bones 
in  some  vast  old  cemetery.  But  the  soldier,  the  politician, 
and  the  ambitious  man  had  no  longer  the  sweet  consolation 
of  looking  toward  heaven,  to  read  there  a  hope  or  a  warn- 
ing. A  red  sky  signifies  nothing  to  such  people  but  wind 
and  disturbance.  White  and  fleecy  clouds  upon  the  azu:  3 
only  say  that  the  sea  will  be  smooth  and  peaceful.  D'Ar- 
tagnan found  the  sky  blue,  the  breeze  embalmed  with  salim 
perfumes,  and  he  said:  "I  will  embark  with  the  first  tide, 
if  it  be  but  in  a  nutshell." 

At  Croisic  as  at  Pirial  he  had  remarked  enormous  heaps 
of  stone  lying  along  the  shore.  These  gigantic  walls,  de- 
molished every  tide  by  the  transport  operated  upon  them 
for  Belle-Isle,  were,  in  the  eyes  of  the  musketeer  the 
consequence  and  the  proof  of  what  he  had  well  divined  at 
Pirial.  Was  it  a  wall  that  M.  Fouquet  was  constructing? 
was  it  a  fortification  that  he  was  erecting?    To  ascertain 


440  THE   YICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

• 

that,  he  must  see  it.  D'Artagnan  put  Furet  into  a  stable, 
supped,  went  to  bed,  and  on  the  morrow  took  a  walk  upon 
the  port,  or,  rather,  upon  the  shingle.  Le  Croisic  has  a 
port  of  fifty  feet;  it  has  a  lookout  which  resembles  an 
enormous  brioche  (a  kind  of  cake)  elevated  on  a  dish.  The 
flat  strand  is  the  dish.  Hundreds  of  barrowsful  of  earth, 
solidified  with  the  pebbles,  and  rounded  into  cones,  with 
sinuous  passages  between,  are  lookouts  and  brioches  at  the 
same  time.  It  is  so  now,  and  it  was  so  two  hundred  years 
ago,  only  the  brioche  was  less  large,  and  probably  there 
were  not  to  be  seen  trellises  of  lath  around  the  brioche, 
which  constitute  the  ornament  of  it,  and  which  the  edility 
of  that  poor  and  pious  bourgade  has  planted  like  gardes- 
fou8  along  the  passages,  winding  toward  the  little  terrace. 
Upon  the  shingle  were  three  or  four  fishermen  talking 
about  sardines  and  shrimps.  D'Artagnan,  with  his  eye 
animated  by  rough  gayety,  and  a  smile  upon  his  lips,  ap- 
proached these  fishermen. 

''Any  fishing  going  on  to-day?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  one  of  them,  "we  are  only 
waiting  for  the  tide." 

"Where  do  you  fish,  my  friends?" 

"Upon  the  coasts,  monsieur." 

"Which  are  the  best  coasts?" 

"Ah,  that  is  according.  The  tour  of  the  isles,  for  ex- 
ample." 

"Yes,  but  they  are  a  long  way  off,  those  isles,  are  they 
not?" 

"Not  very;  four  leagues." 

"Four  leagues!     That  is  a  voyage." 

The  fishermen  laughed  out  in  M.  Agnan's  face. 

"Hear  me,  then,"  said  the  latter,  with  an  air  of  simple 
stupidity;  "four  leagues  off  you  lose  sight  of  land,  do  you 
not?" 

"Why,  not  always." 

"Ah,  it  is  a  long  way — too  long,  or  else  I  would  have 
asked  you  to  take  me  aboard,  and  to  show  me  what  I  have 
never  seen." 

"What  is  that?" 

"A  live  sea-fish." 

"Monsieur  comes  from  the  province?"  said  a  fisherman. 

"Yes,  I  come  from  Paris." 

The  Breton  shrugged  his  shoulders;  then,  "Have  you 
ttver  seen  Monsieur  Fouquet  in  Paris?"  asked  he, 

"Often,"  replied  D'Artagnan, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONKE.  441 

"Often!"  repeated  the  fishermen,  closing  their  circle 
round  the  Parisian.     "Do  you  know  him?" 

"A  little;  he  is  the  intimate  friend  of  my  master.'* 

"Ah!"  said  the  fishermen,  in  astonishment. 

"And,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  have  seen  all  his  chateaus  of 
St.  Mande,  of  Vaux,  and  his  hotel  in  Paris." 

"Is  that  a  fine  place?" 

"Superb." 

"It  is  not  so  fine  a  place  as  Belle-Isle/'  said  the  fisher- 
man. 

"Bah!"  cried  M.  d'Artagnan,  breaking  into  a  laugh  so 
loud  that  he  angered  all  his  auditors. 

"It  is  very  plain  you  have  never  seen  Belle-Isle,"  said 
the  most  curious  of  the  fishermen.  "Do  you  know  that 
there  are  six  leagues  of  it;  and  that  there  are  such  trees  on 
it  as  cannot  be  equaled  even  at  Nantes  sur  le  Fosse?" 

"Trees  in  the  sea!"  cried  D'Artagnan;  "well,  I  should 
like  to  see  them." 

"That  can  be  easily  done;  we  are  fishing  at  the  Isle  de 
Hoedic — come  with  us.  From  that  place  you  will  see,  as  a 
paradise,  the  black  trees  of  Belle-Isle  against  the  sky;  you 
will  see  the  white  line  of  the  castle,  which  cuts  the  horizon 
of  the  sea  like  a  blade." 

"Oh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "that  must  be  very  beautiful. 
But  do  you  know  there  are  a  hundred  belfries  at  Monsieur 
Fouquet's  chateau  of  Vaux?" 

The  Breton  raised  his  head  in  profound  admiration,  but 
he  was  not  convinced.  "A  hundred  belfries!  Ah,  that 
may  be;  but  Belle-Isle  is  finer  than  that.  Should  you  like 
to  see  Belle-Isle?" 

"Is  that  possible?"  asked  D'Artagnan. 

"Yes,  with  permission  of  the  governor." 

"But  I  do  not  know  the  governor." 

"As  you  know  Monsieur  Fouquet,  you  can  tell  your 
name." 

"Oh,  my  friends,  I  am  not  a  gentleman." 

"Everybody  enters  Belle  Isle,"  continued  the  fisherman, 
in  his  strong,  pure  language,  "provided  he  means  no  harm 
to  Belle  Isle  or  its  master." 

A  slight  shudder  crept  over  the  body  of  the  musketeer, 
"That  is  true,"  thought  he.  Then,  recovering  himself, 
*'If  I  were  sure,"  said  he,  "not  to  be  seasick." 

"What,  upon  her?"  said  the  fisherman,  pointing  with 
pride  to  his  pretty,  round-bottomed  bark. 


H%  TIIE   VIOOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Well,  you  almost  persuade  me,"  cried  M.  Agnan;  "I 
will  go  and  see  Belle-Isle,  but  they  will  not  admit  me." 

"We  shall  enter,  safe  enough." 

"You!     What  for?" 

"Why,  dame!  to  sell  fish  to  the  corsairs." 

"He!     Corsairs — what  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  I  mean  that  Monsieur  Fouquet  is  having  two 
corsairs  built  to  chase  the  Dutch  and  the  English,  and  we 
sell  our  fish  to  the  crews  of  those  little  vessels." 

"Come,  come!"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself;  "better  and 
better.  A  printing-press,  bastions,  and  corsairs!  Well, 
Monsieur  Fouquet  is  not  an  enemy  to  be  despised,  as  I  pre- 
sumed to  fancy.  He  is  worth  the  trouble  of  traveling  to 
see  him  nearer." 

"We  set  out  at  half-past  five,"  said  the  fisherman  gravely. 

"I  am  quite  ready,  and  I  will  not  leave  yon  now."  So 
D'Artagnan  saw  the  fishermen  haul  their  barks  to  meet  the 
tide  with  a  windlass.  The  sea  rose;  M.  Agnan  allowed 
himself  to  be  hoisted  on  board,  not  without  sporting  a  little 
fear  and  awkwardness,  to  the  amusement  of  the  young  sea 
urchins  who  watched  him  with  their  large,  intelligent  eyes. 
He  laid  himself  down  upon  a  folded  sail,  did  not  interfere 
with  anything  while  the  bark  prepared  for  sea;  and,  with 
its  large  square  sail,  it  was  fairly  out  within  two  hours. 
The  fishermen,  who  prosecuted  their  occupation  as  they 
proceeded,  did  not  perceive  that  their  passenger  had  not 
become  pale,  had  neither  groaned,  nor  suffered;  that,  in 
spite  of  the  horrible  tossing  and  rolling  of  the  bark,  to 
which  no  hand  imparted  direction,  the  novice  passenger 
had  preserved  his  presence  of  mind  and  his  appetite.  They 
fished,  and  their  fishing  was  sufficiently  fortunate.  To 
lines  baited  with  prawn,  soles  came,  with  numerous  gam- 
bols, to  bite.  Two  nets  had  already  been  broken  by  the 
immense  weight  of  congers  and  haddocks;  three  sea  eels 
plowed  the  hold  with  their  slimy  folds  and  their  dying 
contortions.  D'Artagnan  brought  them  good  luck;  they 
told  him  so.  The  soldier  found  the  occupation  so  pleasant 
that  he  put  his  hand  to  the  work — that  is  to  say,  to  the 
lines — and  uttered  roars  of  joy,  and  mordioux  enough  to 
have  astonished  musketeers  themselves,  every  time  that  a 
shock  given  to  his  line  by  a  captured  prey  required  the 
play  of  the  muscles  of  his  arm  and  the  employment  of  his 
skill  and  strength.  The  party  of  pleasure  had  made  him 
forget  his  diplomatic  mission.  He  was  struggling  with  an 
awfully  large  conger,  and  holding  fast  with  one  hand  to 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  443 

the  side  of  the  vessel,  in  order  to  seize  with  the  other  the 
gaping  jowl  of  his  antagonist,  when  the  patron  said  to  him: 
"Take  care  they  don't  see  you  from  Belle-Isle." 

These  words  produced  the  same  effect  upon  D'Artagnan 
as  the  hissing  of  the  first  bullet  on  a  day  of  battle;  he  let 
go  of  both  line  and  conger,  which,  one  dragging  the  other, 
returned  again  to  the  water.  D'Artagnan  perceived,  within 
half  a  league  at  most,  the  blue  and  marked  profile  of  the 
rocks  of  Belle-Isle  dominated  by  the  white  majestic  line  of 
the  castle.  In  the  distance  the  land  with  its  forests  and 
verdant  plains;  cattle  on  the  grass.  This  was  what  first 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  musketeer.  The  sun  darted 
its  rays  of  gold  upon  the  sea,  raising  a  shining  mist  or  dust 
around  this  enchanted  isle.  Nothing  could  be  seen  of  it, 
owing  to  this  dazzling  light,  but  the  flattened  points;  every 
shadow  was  strongly  marked,  and  cut  with  a  band  of  dark- 
ness the  luminous  sheet  of  the  fields  and  the  walls.  "Eh! 
eh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  at  the  aspect  of  those  masses  of 
black  rocks,  "these  are  fortifications  which  do  not  stand  in 
need  of  any  engineer  to  render  a  landing  difficult.  What 
the  devil  way  could  a  landing  be  effected  on  that  isle,  which 
God  has  defended  so  completely?" 

"This  way,"  replied  the  patron  of  the  bark,  changing  the 
sail,  and  impressing  upon  the  rudder  a  twist  which  turned 
the  boat  in  the  direction  of  a  pretty  little  port,  quite  coquet- 
tish, quite  round,  and  quite  newly  battlemented. 

"What  the  devil  do  I  see  yonder?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"You  see  Leomaria,"  replied  the  fisherman. 

"Well,  but  there?" 

"That  is  Bragos." 

"And  further  on?" 

"Sanger,  and  then  the  palace." 

"Mordioux  !    It  is  a  world.    Ah !  there  are  some  soldiers/5 

"There  are  seventeen  hundred  men  in  Belle-Isle,  mon- 
sieur," replied  the  fisherman  proudly.  "Do  you  know 
that  the  least  garrison  is  of  twenty  companies  of  infantry?" 

"Mordioux !"  cried  D'Artagnan  stamping  with  his  foot. 
"His  majesty  was  right  enough."     They  landed. 


444  THE   YICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNB- 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

IN  WHICH  THE  READER,  NO  DOUBT,  WILL  BE  AS  ASTONISHED 
AS  D'ARTAGNAN  WAS  TO  MEET  WITH  AN  OLD  ACQUAINT- 
ANCE. 

There  is  always  something  in  a  landing,  if  it  be  only 
from  the  smallest  sea-boat — a  trouble  and  a  confusion  which 
do  not  leave  the  mind  the  liberty  of  which  it  stands  in  need 
in  order  to  study  at  the  first  glance  the  new  place  that  is 
represented  to  it.  The  movable  bridges,  the  agitated 
sailors,  the  noise  of  the  water  upon  the  pebbles,  the  cries 
and  the  importunities  of  those  who  wait  upon  the  shores 
are  multiplied  details  of  that  sensation  which  is  summed  up 
in  one  single  result — hesitation.  It  was  not,  then,  till  after 
standing  several  minutes  on  the  shore  that  D'Artagnan  saw 
upon  the  port,  but  more  particularly  in  the  interior  of  the 
isle,  an  immense  number  of  workmen  in  motion.  At  his 
feet  D'Artagnan  recognized  the  five  chalands  laden  with 
rough  stone  which  he  had  seen  leave  the  port  of  Pirial. 
The  stones  were  transported  to  the  shore  by  means  of  a 
chain  formed  by  twenty-five  or  thirty  peasants.  The  large 
stones  were  loaded  upon  carriages  which  conveyed  them  in 
the  same  direction  as  the  shards,  that  is  to  say,  toward  the 
works,  of  which  D'Artagnan  could  as  yet  apppreciate 
neither  the  strength  nor  the  extent.  Everywhere  was  to 
be  seen  an  activity  equal  to  that  which  Telemachus  observed 
on  his  landing  at  Sarentum.  D'Artagnan  felt  a  strong 
inclination  to  penetrate  into  the  interior;  but  he  could  not, 
under  the  penalty  of  exciting  mistrust,  exhibit  too  much 
curiosity.  He  advanced  then  only  little  by  little,  scarcely 
going  beyond  the  line  formed  by  the  fishermen  on  the 
beach,  observing  everything,  saying  nothing,  and  meeting 
all  suspicions  that  might  have  been  excited  with  a  half-silly 
question  or  a  polite  bow.  And  yet,  while  his  companions 
carried  on  their  trade,  giving  or  selling  their  fish  to  the 
workmen  or  the  inhabitants  of  the  city,  D'Artagnan  had 
gained  ground  by  degrees,  and,  reassured  by  the  little  at- 
tention paid  to  him,  he  began  to  cast  an  intelligent  and 
confident  look  upon  the  men  and  things  that  appeared  be- 
fore his  eyes.  And  his  very  first  glance  fell  upon  move- 
ments of  earth  in  which  the  eye  of  a  soldier  could  not  be 
mistaken.  At  the  two  extremities  of  the  port,  in  order 
that  the  fires  should  cross  upon  the  great  axis  of  the  ellipsis 


THE  VtCOMTE   DE   BRAGELOtftfE.  44?> 

formed  by  the  basin,  in  the  first  place,  two  batteries  had 
been  raised,  evidently  destined  to  receive  flank  pieces,  for 
D'Artagnan  saw  the  workmen  finishing  the  platforms  anc. 
making  ready  the  demi-circumference  in  wood  upon  which 
the  wheel  of  the  pieces  might  turn  to  embrace  every  direc- 
tion over  the  epanlment.  By  the  side  of  each  of  these  bat- 
teries other  workmen  were  strengthening  gabions  filled  with 
earth,  the  lining  of  another  battery.  The  latter  had  em- 
brasures, and  a  conductor  of  the  works  called  successively 
men  who,  with  cord:,  tied  the  saucissons,  and  those  Avho 
cut  the  lozenges  and  right  angles  of  turfs  destined  to  retain 
tdie  matting  of  the  embrasures.  By  the  activity  displayed 
in  these  works,  already  so  far  advanced  they  might  be  con- 
sidered as  terminated,  they  were  not  yet  furnished  with 
their  cannons,  but  the  platforms  had  their  gltes  and  their 
madriers  all  prepared;  the  earth,  beaten  carefully,  had  con- 
solidated them;  and,  supposing  the  artillery  to  be  on  the 
island,  in  less  than  two  or  three  days  the  port  might  be 
completely  armed.  That  which  astonished  D'Artagnan, 
when  he  turned  his  eyes  from  the  coasb  batteries  to  the  for- 
tifications of  the  city,  was  to  see  that  Belle-Isle  was  de- 
fended by  an  entirely  new  system,  of  which  he  had  often 
heard  the  Comte  de  la  Fere  speak  as  a  great  advancement, 
but  of  which  he  had  never  yet  seen  the  application.  These 
fortifications  belonged  neither  to  the  Dutch  method  of 
Marollais,  nor  to  the  French  method  of  the  Chevalier  An- 
toine  de  Ville,  but  to  the  system  of  Manesson  Mallet,  a 
skillful  engineer,  who,  for  about  six  or  eight  years,  had 
quitted  the  service  of  Portugal  to  enter  that  of  France. 
These  works  had  the  peculiarity  that,  instead  of  rising 
above  the  earth,  as  did  the  ancient  ramparts  destined  to 
defend  a  city  from  escalades,  they,  on  the  contrary,  sank 
into  it;  and  what  created  the  height  of  the  walls  was  the 
depth  of  the  ditches.  It  did  not  take  long  to  make  D'Ar- 
tagnan perceive  the  superiority  of  such  a  system,  which 
gives  no  advantage  to  cannon.  Besides,  as  the  fosses  were 
lower  than,  or  on  a  level  with,  the  sea,  these  fosses  might 
be  inundated  by  subterranean  sluices.  Otherwise,  the 
works  were  almost  complete,  and  a  group  of  workmen,  re- 
ceiving orders  from  a  man  who  appeared  to  be  conductor  of 
the  works,  were  occupied  in  placing  the  last  stones.  A 
bridge  of  planks,  thrown  over  the  fosses  for  the  greater 
convenience  of  the  maneuvers  connected  with  the  barrows, 
joined  the  interior  to  the  exterior.  With  an  air  of  simple 
curiosity,  D'Artagnan  asked  if  he   might  be  permitted  to 


446  THE  VICOMTE   BE   BRAOELONNI. 

cross  the  bridge,  and  he  was  told  that  no  order  prevented 
it.  Consequently,  he  crossed  the  bridge,  and  advanced 
toward  the  group. 

This  group  was  superintended  by  the  man  whom  D'Ar- 
tagnan  had  already  remarked,  and  who  appeared  to  be  the 
engineer-in-chief.  A  plan  was  lying  open  before  him  upon 
a  large  stone  forming  a  table,  and  at  some  paces  from  him  a 
crane  was  in  action.  This  engineer,  who,  by  his  evident 
importance,  first  attracted  the  attention  of  D'Artagnan, 
who  wore  a  justau-corps,  which,  from  its  sumptuousness, 
was  scarcely  in  harmony  with  the  work  he  was  employed  in, 
which  would  rather  have  necessitated  the  costume  of  a 
master  mason  than  of  a  noble.  He  was,  besides,  a  man  of 
high  stature  and  large  square  shoulder's,  wearing  a  hat 
covered  with  feathers.  He  gesticulated  in  the  most  majes- 
tic manner,  and  appeared,  for  D'Artagnan  only  saw  his 
back,  to  be  scolding  the  workmen  for  their  idleness  and 
want  of  strength. 

D'Artagnan  continued  to  draw  nearer.  At  that  moment 
the  man  with  the  feathers  had  ceased  to  gesticulate,  and, 
with  his  hands  placed  upon  his  knees,  was  following,  half 
bent,  the  effort  of  six  workmen  to  raise  a  block  of  hewn 
stone  to  the  top  of  a  piece  of  timber  destined  to  support 
that  stone  so  that  the  cord  of  the  crane  might  be  passed  under 
it.  The  six  men,  all  on  one  side  of  the  stone,  united  their 
efforts  to  raise  it  to  eight  or  ten  inches  from  the  ground, 
sweating  and  blowing,  while  a  seventh,  got  ready  when 
there  should  be  daylight  enough  beneath  it,  to  slide  in  the 
roller  that  was  to  support  it.  But  the  stone  had  already 
twice  escaped  from  their  hands  before  gaining  a  sufficient 
height  for  the  roller  to  be  introduced.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  every  time  the  stone  escaped  them  they  bounded 
quickly  backward,  to  keep  their  feet  from  being  crushed  by 
the  retailing  stone.  Every  time  the  stone,  abandoned  by 
them,  sank  deeper  into  the  damp  earth,  which  lendered 
the  operation  more  and  more  difficult.  A  third  effort  was 
lollowed  by  no  better  success,  but  with  progressive  dis- 
couragement. And  yet,  when  the  six  men  were  bent  to- 
ward the  stone,  the  man  with  the  feathers  had  himself, 
with  a  powerful  voice,  given  the  word  of  command,  "Firm!" 
which  presides  over  all  maneuvers  of  strength.  Then  he 
drew  himself  up. 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  he,  "what  is  all  this  about?  Have  I  to 
do  with  men  of  straw?  Come  de  bcenf!  stand  on  one  side, 
and  you  shall  see  how  this  is  to  be  done." 


THE  VTCOMTE   DE   SRAGELONNE.  447 

"Pesfe!"  said  D'Artagnau,  "will  he  pretend  to  raise  that 
rock?     That  would  bo  a  sight  worth  looking  at." 

The  workmen,  as  oommanded  by  the  engineer,  drew  back 
with  their  ears  down,  and,  shaking  their  heads,  with  the 
exception  of  the  one  who  held  the  plank,  who  prepared  k» 
perform  the  office.  The  man  with  the  feathers  went  up  to 
the  stone,  stooped,  slipped  his  hands  under  the  face  lying 
upon  the  ground,  stiffened  his  Herculean  muscles,  and, 
without  a  strain,  with  a  slow  motion,  like  that  of  a  machine, 
be  lifted  the  end  of  the  rock  a  foot  from  the  ground.  The 
workman  who  held  the  plank  profited  by  the  space  thus 
given  him,  and  slipped  the  roller  under  the  stone. 

"That's  the  way,"  said  the  giant,  not  letting  the  rock 
fall  again,  but  placing  it  upon  its  support. 

"Mordioux  I  cried  D'Artagnan,  "I  know  but  one  man 
capable  of  such  a  feat  of  strength." 

"Ilein!"  cried  the  colossus,  turning  round. 

"Porthos!"  murmured  D'Artagnan,  seized  with  stupor, 
"Porthos  at  Belle-Isle?" 

On  his  part,  the  man  with  the  feathers  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  the  disguised  lieutenant,  and,  in  spite  of  his  met- 
amorphosis, recognized  him. 

"D'Artagnan!"  cried  he;  and  the  color  mounted  to  his 
face.     "Hush!"  said  he  to  D'Artagnan. 

"Hush!"  in  his  turn  said  the  musketeer.  In  fact,  if 
Porthos  had  just  been  discovered  by  D'Artagnan,  D'Ar- 
tagnan had  just  been  discovered  by  Porthos.  The  interest 
<of  the  particular  secret  of  each  struck  them  both  at  the 
'ame  time.  Nevertheless,  the  first  movement  of  the  two 
men  was  to  throw  their  arms  round  each  other.  What  they 
wished  to  conceal  from  the  bystanders  was,  not  their 
friendship,  but  their  names.  But  after  the  embrace  came 
the  reflection. 

"What  the  devil  brings  Porthos  to  Belle-Isle,  lifting 
stones?"  said  D'Artagnan;  only  D'Artagnan  uttered  that 
[question  in  a  low  voice.  Less  strong  in  diplomacy  than  his 
friend,  Porthos  thought  aloud. 

"How  the  devil  did  you  come  to  Belle-Isle?"  asked  he 
of  D'Artagnan;  "and  what  do  you  come  to  do  here?" 

It  was  necessary  to  reply  without  hesitation.  To  hesitate 
in  his  answer  to  Porthos  would  have  been  a  check,  for  which 
the  self-love  of  D'Artagnan  would  never  have  consoled 
itself. 

"Pardieu  !  my  friend,  I  am  at  Belle-Isle  because  you  are 
here. " 


448  THE   VTCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Ah,  bah!"  said  Porthos,  visibly  stupefied  with  the  argu- 
ment, and  seeking  to  account  for  it  to  himself  with  that 
lucidity  of  deduction  which  we  know  to  be  peculiar  to  him. 

"Without  doubt,"  continued  D'Artagnan,  unwilling  to 
give  his  friend  time  to  recollect  himself,  "I  have  been  to 
see  you  at  Pierrefonds." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  did  not  find  me  there?" 

"No,  but  I  found  Mouston." 

"Is  he  well?" 

"Pester 

"Well,  but  Mouston  did  not  tell  you  I  was  here/' 

"Why  should  he  not?  Have  I,  perchance,  deserved  to 
lose  his  confidence?" 

"No;  but  he  did  not  know  it." 

"Well,  that  is  a  reason  at  least  not  offensive  to  my  self- 
love." 

"Then,  how  did  you  manage  to  find  me?" 

"My  dear  friend,  a  great  noble,  like  you,  always  leaves 
traces  behind  him  on  his  passage*  and  I  should  think  but 
poorly  of  myself  if  I  were  not  sharp  enough  to  follow  the 
traces  of  my  friends." 

This  explanation,  flattering  as  it  was,  did  not  entirely 
satisfy  Porthos. 

"But  I  left  no  traces  behind  me,  as  I  came  here  dis- 
guised," said  Porthos. 

"Ah!    You  came  disguised,  did  you?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Yes." 

"And  how?" 

"As  a  miller." 

"And  do  you  think  a  great  noble  like  you,  Porthos,  can 
affect  common  manners  so  as  to  deceive  people?" 

"Well,  I  swear  to  you,  my  friend,  that  I  played  my  part 
so  well  that  everybody  was  deceived." 

"Indeed!  so  well  that  I  have  not  discovered  and  joined 
you?" 

"Yes;  but  how  have  you  discovered  and  joined  me?" 

"Stop  a  bit.  I  was  going  to  tell  }rou  how.  Do  you 
imagine  Mouston " 

"Ah!  it  was  that  fellow,  Mouston,"  said  Porthos,  gather- 
ing together  those  two  triumphant  arches  which  served  hira 
for  eyebrows. 

"But  stop,  I  tell  you — it  was  no  fault  of  Mouston's,  be- 
cause he  was  ignorant  of  where  you  were." 


THE   VICOMTE    IDE   BRAGELONNE.  449 

"I  know  he  was;  and  that  is  why  1  am  in  such  haste  to 
'  understand — ■ — ■" 

"Oh!  how  impatient  yon  are,  Porthos." 

"When  I  do  not  comprehend,  I  am  terrible.5' 

"Well,  you  will  understand.  Aramis  wrote  to  you  at 
Pierrefonds,  did  he  not?" 

"Yes." 

"And  he  told  you  to  come  before  the  equinox." 

"That  is  true." 

"Well,  that  is  it,"  said  D'Artagnan,  hoping  that  this 
reason  would  satisfy  Porthos.  Porthos  appeared  to  give 
himself  up  to  a  violent  mental  labor. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  he,  "I  understand.  As  Aramis  told  me 
1  to  come  before  the  equinox,  you  have  understood  that  that 
was  to  join  him.  You  then  inquired  where  Aramis  was, 
saying  to  yourself,  'Where  Aramis  is,  there  Porthos  will 
be.'  You  have  learned  that  Aramis  was  in  Bretagne,  and 
you  said  to  yourself,  'Porthos  is  in  Bretagne.'  " 

"Exactly.     In  good  truth,  Porthos,   I  cannot  tell  why 

you   have  not  turned   conjurer.     So  you  understand  that, 

arriving  at  Eoche  Bernard,  I  heard  of  the  spl  ndid  fortifi- 

i  cations   going   on   at    Belle-Isle.     The   account   raised  my 

curiosity.     I  embarked  in  a  fishing-boat,  without   dreaming 

i  that  you  were  here;  I  came,  and  I  saw  a  fine  fellow  lifting 

.a  stone  which  Ajax  could  not  have  stirred.     I  cried  out, 

'Nobody  but  the  Baron  de   Bracieux  could  have  performed 

.  such  a  feat  of  strength.'     You  heard  me,  you  turned  round, 

>you  recognized  me,  we  embraced;  and  ma  foil  if  you  like, 

imy  dear  friend,  we  will  embrace  again." 

"Ah!  now  it  is  all  explained,"  said  Porthos;  and  he  em- 
braced D'Artagnan  with  so  much  friendship  as  to  deprive 
tthe  musketeer  of  his  breath  for  five  minutes. 

"Why,  you  are  stronger  than  ever,"  said  D'Artagnan^ 
"and  still  in  your  arms." 

Porthos  saluted  D'Artagnan  with  a  gracious  smile.  Dur- 
ing the  five  minutes  D'Artagnan  was  recovering  his  breath, 
he  reflected  that  he  had  a  very  difficult  part  to  play.  It 
was  necessary  that  he  should  question  without  ever  reply- 
ing. By  the  time  his  respiration  returned>  he  had  fixed  his 
plan  of  the  campaign. 


450  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONITE. 

CHAPTER  LXX. 

WHEREIN     THE     IDEAS     OF     D'ARTAGNAN,     AT     EIRST     VERI 
TROUBLED,    BEGIN   TO   CLEAR   UP   A    XITTLE. 

D'Artagnan  immediately  took  the  offensive. 

"Now  that  I  have  told  you  all,  my  dear  friend,  or,  rather, 
now  you  have  guessed  all,  tell  me  what  you  are  doing  here, 
covered  with  dust  and  mud?" 

Porthos  wiped  his  brow,  and  looked  around  him  with 
pride. 

"Why,  it  appears,"  said  he,  "that  you  may  see  what  I 
am  doing  here." 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt,  you  lift  great  stones." 

"Oh!  to  show  these  idle  fellows  what  a  man  is,"  said 
Porthos,  with  contempt.     "But  you  understand " 

"Yes,  that  it  is  not  your  place  to  lift  stones,  although 
there  are  many  whose  place  it  is  who  cannot  lift  them  as 
you  do.  It  was  that  which  made  me  ask  you  just  now, 
'What  are  you  doing  here,  baron?'  " 

"I  am  studying  topography,  chevalier." 

"You  are  studying  topography?" 

"Yes;  but  you — what  are  you  doing  in  that  common 
dress?" 

D' Artagnan  perceived  he  had  committed  a  fault  in  giving 
expression  to  his  astonishment.  Porthos  had  taken  advan- 
tage of  it  to  retort  with  a  question. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "you  know  I  am  a  bourgeois,  in  fact; 
my  dress,  then,  has  nothing  astonishing  in  it,  since  it  con- 
forms with  my  condition." 

"Nonsense!  you  are  a  musketeer." 

"You  are  wrong,  my  friend;  I  have  given  in  my  resigna- 
tion." 

"Bah!" 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  yes." 

"And  have  you  abandoned  the  service ?" 

"I  have  quitted  it." 

"You  have  abandoned  the  king?" 

"Quite." 

Porthos  raised  his  arms  toward  heaven,  like  a  man  who 
laas  heard  extraordinary  news. 

"Well,  that  does  confound  me!"  said  he. 

&<It  is,  nevertheless,  true." 

"And  what  led  you  to  form  such  a  resolution?" 

"The  king  displeased  me.     Mazarin  had  disgusted    me 


THE  VICOMTE   t>E  BRAGELONNE.  451 

for  a  long  time,  as  you  know;  so  I  threw  my  cassock  to  the 
nettles." 

"But  Mazarin  is  dead." 

"I  know  that  well  enough,  parbleu  !  Only,  at  the  period 
of  his  death,  my  resignation  had  been  given  in  and  accepted 
two  months.  Then,  feeling  myself  free,  I  set  off  for  Pierre- 
fonds,  to  see  my  friend  Porthos.  I  had  heard  talk  of  the 
happy  division  you  had  made  of  your  time,  and  I  wished, 
for  a  fortnight,  to  divide  mine  after  your  fashion." 

"My  friend,  you  know  that  it  is  not  for  a  fortnight  the 
house  is  open  to  you ;  it  is  for  a  year — for  ten  years — for  life." 

"Thank  you,  Portlios." 

"Ah!  but  perhaps  you  want  money — do  you?"  said  Por- 
thos, making  something  like  fifty  louis  chink  in  his  pocket. 
"In  that  case,  you  know " 

"No,  thank  you;  lam  not  in  want  of  anything.  I  placed 
my  savings  with  Planchet,  who  pays  me  the  interest  of 
them." 

"Your  savings?" 

"Y  s,  to  be  sure,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "Why  should  I 
mot  put  by  savings,  as  well  as  another,  Porthos?" 

"Oh,  there  is  no  reason  why;  on  the  contrary,  I  always 
1  suspect  d  you — that  is  to  say,  Aram  is  always  suspected  you 
ito  have  savings.  For  my  own  part,  d'ye  see,  I  take  no  con- 
icern  about  the  management  of  my  household;  but  I  pre- 
rgurae  the  savings  of  a  musketeer  must  be  small." 

"No  doubt,  relative  to  yourself,  Porthos,  who  are  a  mil- 
lionaire; but  i  ou  shall  judge.  I  had  laid  by  twenty-live 
! thousand  litres  " 

"That's  pretty  well,"  said  Porthos,  with  an  affable  air. 

"And,'  continued  D'Artagnan,  "on  the  28th  of  last 
month  I  added  to  it  two  hundred  thousand  livres  more." 

Porthos  opened  his  large  eyes,  which  eloquently  de- 
manded of  the  musketeer,  'Where  the  devil  did  you  steal 
such  a  sum  as  that,  my  dear  friend?" 

"Two  hundred  thousand  livres!"  cried  he,  at  length. 

"Yes;  which,  with  the  twenty-five  I  had,  and  twenty 
thousand  I  have  about  me,  complete  the  sum  of  two  hun- 
;  dred  and  forty-five  thousand  livres." 

"But  tell  me,  whence  comes  this  fortune?" 

"I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  presently,  dear  friend;  but  as 
you  have,  in  the  first  place,  many  things  to  tell  me  your- 
self, let  us  place  my  recital  in  its  proper  rank." 

"Bravo!"  said  Porthos;  "then  we  are  both  rich.  But 
what  can  I  have  to  relate  to  you?" 


452  THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELOKNE. 

"You  have  to  relate  to  me  how  Aramis  came  to  be 
named " 

"Ah!  Bishop  of  Vannes." 

"That  \r  it,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "Bishop  of  Vannes. 
Dear  Aramis!  do  you  know  how  he  succeeded  so  well?" 

"Yes,  yes;  without  reckoning  that  he  does  not  mean  to 
stop  there." 

"What!  do  you  mean  he  will  not  be  contented  with 
violet  stockings,  and  that  he  wants  a  red  hat?" 

"Hush!  that  is  promised  him." 

"Bah!  by  the  king." 

"By  somebody  more  powerful  than  the  king." 

"Ah!  the  devil!  Porthos,  what  incredible  things  you 
tell  me,  my  friend!" 

"Why  incredible?  Is  there  not  always  somebody  in 
France  more  po    erful  than  the  king?" 

"Oh,  yes;  in  the  time  of  King  Louis  XIII.  it  was  Car- 
dinal .Richelieu;  in  the  time  of  the  regency  it  was  Cardinal 
Mazarin.     In  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.  it  is  Monsieur " 

"Goon." 

"It  is  Monsieur  Fouquet." 

"Jove!  you  have  hit  it  the  first  time." 

"So,  then,  I  suppose  it  is  Monsieur  Fouquet  who  has 
promised  Aramis  the  red  hat?" 

Porthos  assumed  an  air  of  reserve. 

"Dear  friend,"  said  he,  "God  preserve  me  from  med- 
dling with  the  affairs  of  others,  above  all,  from  revealing 
secrets  it  may  be  to  th"ir  interest  to  be  kept.  When  you 
see  Aramis,  he  will  tell  you  all  he  thinks  he  ought  to  tell 
you." 

"You  are  right,  Porthos;  and  you  are  quite  a  padlock 
for  safety.     But,  to  revert  to  yourself." 

"Yes,"  said  Porthos. 

"You  said  just  now  you  came  hither  to  study  topography?" 

"I  did  so." 

"Tu  Dieu!  my  friend,  what  fine  things  you  will  do!" 

"Hew  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  these  fortifications  are  admirable." 

"Is  that  your  opinion?" 

"Doubtless  it  is.  In  truth,  to  anything  but  a  regular 
siege,  Belle-Isle  is  impregnable." 

Porthos  rubbed  his  hands. 

"That  is  my  opinon,"  said  he. 

"But  who  the  devil  has  fortified  this  paltry  little  place  ir 
this  manner?" 


THE    VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  453 

Porthos  drew  himself  up  proudly: 

"Did  not  I  tell  you  who?" 

"No." 

"Do  you  not  suspect?" 

"No;  all  that  I  can  say  is  that  he  is  a  man  who  has 
studied  all  the  systems  and  who  appears  to  me  to  have 
stopped  at  the  best." 

"Hush!"  said  Porthos;  "consider  my  modesty,  my  dear 
D'Artagnan." 

"In  truth,"  replied  the  musketeer,  "can  it  be  you — who 
_oh— !" 

"Pray — my  dear  friend " 

"You,  who  have  imagined,  traced,  and  combined,  between 
these  bastions,  these  redans,  these  curtains,  these  half- 
moons,  and  are  preparing  that  covered  way?" 

"I  beg  you " 

"You  who  have  built  that  lunette  with  its  retiring  angles 
and  its  salient  angles." 

"My  friend " 

"You  who  have  given  that  inclination  to  the  openings  of 
your  embrasures,  by  the  means  of  which  you  so  effectively 
protect  the  men  who  serve  the  guns." 

"Eh!  mon  Dieu !  yes." 

"Oh!  Porthos,  Porthos!  I  must  bow  down  before  you — 
I  must  admire  you!  But  you  have  always  concealed  from 
us  this  superior  genius.  I  hope,  my  dear  friend,  you  will 
show  me  all  this  in  detail?" 

"Nothing  more  easy.     There  is  my  plan." 

"Show  it  me." 

Porthos  led  D'Artagnan  toward  the  stone  which  served 
him  for  a  table,  and  upon  which  the  plan  was  spread.  At 
the  foot  of  the  plan  was  written,  in  the  formidable  writing 
of  Porthos,  writing  of  which  we  have  already  had  occasion 
to  speak: 

"Instead  of  making  use  of  the  square  or  rectangle,  as 
has  been  done  to  this  time,  you  will  suppose  your  place  in- 
closed in  a  regular  hexagon,  this  polygon  having  the  advan- 
tage of  offering  more  angles  than  the  quadrilateral  one. 
Every  side  of  your  hexagon,  of  which  you  will  determine 
the  length  in  proportion  to  the  dimensions  taken  upon  the 
place,  will  be  divided  into  two  parts,  and  upon  the  middle 
point  you  will  elevate  a  perpendicular  toward  the  center  of 
the  polygon,  which  will  equal  in  length  the  sixth  part  of 
the  side.  By  the  extremities  of  each  side  of  the  polygon 
you  will  trace  two  diagonals,  which  will  cut  the  perpendicu- 
lar.    These  two  rights  will  form  the  lines  of  the  defense." 


454  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"The  devil!"  said  D'Artagnan,  stopping  at  this  point  of 
the  demonstration.  "Why,  this  is  a  complete  system, 
Porthos." 

"Entirely,"  said  Porthos.     "Will  yon  continue?" 

"No;  I  have  read  enough  of  it;  but,  since  it  is  you,  my 
dear  Porthos,  who  direct  the  works,  what  need  have  you  of 
setting  down  your  system  so  formally  in  writing?" 

"Oh,  mv  dear  friend,  death!" 

"How  death?" 

"Why,  we  are  all  mortal,  are  we  not?" 

"That  is  true,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "you  have  a  reply  for 
everything,  my  friend/' 

And  he  placed  the  plan  upon  the  stone. 

But  however  short  a  time  he  had  the  plan  in  his  hands, 
D'Artagnan  had  been  able  to  distinguish,  under  the  enor- 
mous writing  of  Porthos,  a  much  more  delicate  hand,  which 
reminded  him  of  certain  letters  to  Marie  Michon,  with 
which  he  had  been  acquainted  in  his  youth.  Only  the 
India-rubber  had  passed  and  repassed  so  often  over  this 
writing  that  it  might  have  escaped  a  less  practised  eye  than 
that  of  our  musketeer. 

"Bravo!  my  friend,  bravo!"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"And  now  you  know  all  that  you  want  to  know,  do  you 
not?"  said  Porthos,  wheeling  about. 

" Mordioux!  yes,  only  do  me  one  last  favor,  dear  friend." 

"Speak;  I  am  master  here." 

"Do  me  the  pleasure  to  tell  me  the  name  of  that  gentle- 
man who  is  walking  yonder." 

"Where— there?" 

"Behind  the  soldiers." 

"Followed  by  a  lackey?" 

"Exactly." 

"In  company  with  a  mean  sort  of  fellow  dressed  in  black?" 

"Yes,  I  mean  him." 

"That  is  Monsieur  Getard." 

"And  who  is  Getard,  my  friend?" 

"He  is  the  architect  of  the  house." 

"Of  what  house?" 

"Of  Monsieur  Fouquet's  house." 

"Ah!  ah!"  cried  D'Artagnan,  "you  are  of  the  household 
of  Monsieur  Fouquet,  then,  Porthos?" 

"I!  what  do  you  mean  by  that?"  said  the  topographer, 
blushing  to  the  top  of  his  ears. 

"Why,  you  say  the  house,  when  speaking  of  Belle-Isle, 
as  if  you  were  speaking  of  the  chateau  of  Pii"  'efonds." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRA.GELOXXE,  455 

Porthos  bit  his  lips. 

''Belle-Isle,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "belongs  to  Monsieui 
Fouquet,  does  it  not?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  so." 

"As  Pierrefonds  belongs  to  me?" 

"I  told  you  I  believed  so;  there  are  not  two  words  to 
that." 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  man  there  who  is  accustomed  to  walk 
about  with  a  ruler  in  his  hand?" 

"No;  but  I  might  have  seen  him  there,  if  he  really 
walked  there." 

"Well,  that  gentleman  is  Monsieur  Boulingrin." 

"Who  is  Monsieur  Boulingrin?" 

"Now  we  come  to  it.  If,  when  this  gentleman  is  walk- 
ing with  a  ruler  in  his  hand,  any  one  should  ask  me,  'Who 
is  Monsieur  Boulingrin?'  I  should  reply,'  He  is  the  archi- 
tect of  the  house.'  Well,  Monsieur  Getard  is  the  Boulin- 
grin of  Monsieur  Fouquet.  But  he  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  fortifications,  which  are  my  department  alone.  Do  you 
understand? — mine,  absolutely  mine." 

"Ah!  Porthos,"  cried  D'Artagnan,  letting  his  arms  fall 
as  a  conquered  man  gives  up  his  sword;  "ah!  my  friend, 
you  are  not  only  a  Herculean  topographer,  you  are,  still 
further,  a  dialectician  of  the  first  water." 

"Is  it  not  powerfully  reasoned?"  said  Porthos;  and  he 
puffed  and  blew  like  the  conger  which  D'Artagnan  had  let 
slip  from  his  hand. 

"And  now,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "that  shabby-looking 
man,  who  accompanies  Monsieur  Getard,  is  he  also  of  the 
household  of  Monsieur  Fouquet?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Porthos,  with  contempt;  "it  is  one  Mon- 
sieur Jupenet,  or  Juponet,  a  sort  of  poet." 

"Who  is  to  come  to  establish  himself  here?" 

"I  believe  so." 

"I  thought  Monsieur  Fouquet  had  poets  enough  yonder 
— Scudery,  Loret,  Pellisson,  La  Fontaine?  If  I  must  tell 
you  the  truth,  Porthos,  that  poet  disgraces  you." 

"Eh!  my  friend,  but  what  saves  us  is  that  he  is  not  here 
as  a  poet." 

"As  what  then,  is  he?" 

"As  printer.  And  you  make  me  remember  I  have  a  word 
to  say  to  the  cuistre." 

"Say  it  then." 

Porthos  made  a  sign  to  Jupenet,  who  perfectly  recollected 
D'Artagnan,  and  did  not  care  to  come  nearer;  which  natu- 


456  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXNE. 

rally  produced  another  sign  from  Porthos.     Thi?  was  so  im- 
perative he  was  obliged  to  obey.     As  he  approached: 

"Come,  hither,"  said  Porthos.  "You  only  landed  yester- 
day, and  you  have  begun  your  tricks  already." 

"How  so,  Monsieur  le  Baron?"  asked  Jupenet,  trembling. 

"Your  press  was  groaning  all  night,  monsieur,"  said 
Porthos,  "and  you  prevented  my  sleeping,  come  de  boettf!" 

"Monsieur — "objected  Jupenet  timidly. 

"You  have  nothing  yet  to  print;  therefore,  you  have  no 
occasion  to  set  your  press  going.  What  did  you  print  last 
night?" 

"Monsieur,  a  light  poem  of  my  own  composition." 

"Light!  no,  no,  monsieur;  the  press  groaned  pitifully 
with  it.     Let  that  not  happen  again.     Do  you  understand?" 

"No,  monsieur." 

"You  promise  me?" 

"I  do,  monsieur." 

"Very  well;  this  time  I  pardon  you.     Adieu." 

"Well,  now  we  have  combed  that  fellow's  head,  let  us 
breakfast." 

"Yes,"  replied  D'Artagnan;  "let  us  breakfast." 

"Only,"  said  Porthos,  I  beg  you  to  observe,  my  friend, 
that  we  have  only  two  hours  for  our  repast." 

"What  would  you  have?  We  will  try  to  make  enough  of 
it.     But  why  have  you  only  two  hours?" 

"Because  it  is  high  tide  at  one  o'clock,  and,  with  the 
tide,  I  am  going  to  Vannes.  But,  as  I  shall  return  to- 
morrow, my  dear  friend,  you  can  stay  here;  you  shall  be 
master;  I  have  a  good  cook  and  a  good  cellar." 

"No,"  interrupted  D'Artagnan,  "better  than  that." 

"What?" 

"You  are  going  to  Vannes,  you  say?" 

"To  a  certainty." 

"To  see  Aramis?" 

"Yes." 
1     "Well,  I  came  from  Paris  on  purpose  to  see  Aramis." 

"That  is  true." 

"I  will  go  with  you,  then." 

"Do;  that's  the  thing." 

"Only,  I  ought  to  have  seen  Aramis  first,  and  you  after. 
But  man  proposes,  and  God  disposes.  I  have  begun  with 
you,  and  will  finish  with  Aramis." 

"Very  well." 

"And  in  how  many  hours  can  you  go  from  hence  t;' 
Vannes?" 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  457 

"Oh!  pardieu!  in  six  hours.  Three  hours  by  sea  to 
Sarzeau,  three  hours  by  road  from  Sarzeau  to  Valines." 

"How  convenient  that  is!  Being  so  near  to  the  bishopric, 
do  you  often  go  to  Vannes?" 

"Yes;  once  a  week.     But,  stop  till  I  get  my  plan." 

Porthos  picked  up  his  plan,  folded  it  carefully,  and  in- 
gulfed it  in  his  large  pocket. 

"Good!"  said  D'Artagnan  aside;  "I  think  I  now  know 
the  true  engineer  who  is  fortifying  Belle-Isle." 

Two  hours  after,  at  high  tide,  Porthos  and  D'Artagnan 
set  out  for  Sarzeau. 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

A    PROCESSION   AT   VANNES. 

The  passage  from  Belle-Isle  to  Sarzeau  was  made  rapidly 
enough,  thanks  to  one  of  those  little  corsairs  of  which  D'Ar- 
tagnan had  been  told  during  his  voyage,  and  which,  shaped 
for  fast  sailing  and  destined  for  the  chase,  were  sheltered 
at  that  time  in  the  road  of  Loc-Maria,  where  one  of  them, 
with  a  quarter  of  its  war-crew,  performed  the  duty  between 
Belle-Isle  and  the  continent.  D'Artagnan  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  convincing  himself  that  Porthos,  though  engineer 
and  topographer,  was  not  deeply  versed  in  affairs  of  state. 
His  perfect  ignorance,  with  any  other,  might  have  passed 
for  well-informed  dissimulation.  But  D'Artagnan  knew 
too  well  all  the  folds  and  refolds  of  his  Porthos  not  to  find 
a  secret  if  there  were  one  there;  like  those  regular,  minute 
old  bachelors,  who  know  how  to  find,  with  their  eyes  shut, 
each  book  on  the  shelves  of  their  library,  and  each  piece  of 
linen  in  their  wardrobe.  Then,  if  he  had  found  nothing, 
that  cunning  D'Artagnan,  in  rolling  and  unrolling  his 
Porthos,  it  was  because,  in  truth,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
found. 

"Be  it  so,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "I  shall  know  more  at 
Vannes  in  half  an  hour  than  Porthos  has  known  at  Belle- 
Isle  in  two  months.  Only,  in  order  that  I  may  know  some- 
thing, it  is  important  that  Porthos  does  not  make  use  of 
the  only  stratagem  I  leave  at  his  disposal.  He  must  not 
warn  Aramis  of  my  arrival." 

All  the  cares  of  the  musketeer  were  then,  for  the  mo- 
ment, confined  to  the  watching  of  Porthos.  And  let  us 
hasten  to  say,  Porthos  did  not  deserve  all  this  mistrust. 


458  THE  VTCOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

Porthos  thought  of  no  evil.  Perhaps,  on  first  seeing  him, 
D'Artagnan  had  inspired  him  with  a  little  suspicion;  but 
almost  immediately  D'Artagnan  had  reconquered  in  that 
good  and  brave  heart  the  place  he  had  always  occupied, 
and  not  the  least  cloud  darkened  the  large  eye  of  Porthos, 
fixed  from  time  to  time  with  tenderness  on  his  friend. 

On  landing,  Porthos  inquired  if  his  horses  were  waiting, 
and  he  soon  perceived  them  at  the  crossing  of  the  road 
which  turns  round  Sarzeau,  and  which,  without  passing 
through  that  little  city,  leads  toward  Vannes.  These  horses 
were  two  in  number,  one  for  M.  de  Vallon,  and  one  for  his 
equerry;  for  Porthos  had  an  equerry  since  Mouston  was 
only  able  to  use  a  carriage  as  a  means  of  locomotion.  D'Ar- 
tagnan expected  that  Porthos  would  propose  to  send  for- 
ward his  equerry  upon  one  horse  to  bring  back  another 
horse,  and  he,  D'Artagnan,  had  made  up  his  mind  to  oppose 
this  proposition.  But  nothing  that  D'Artagnan  had  ex- 
pected happened.  Porthos  simply  told  the  equerry  to  dis- 
mount and  await  his  return  at  Sarzeau,  while  D'Artagnan 
would  ride  his  horse;  which  was  done. 

"Eh!  but  you  are  quite  a  man  of  precaution,  my  dear 
Porthos,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  his  friend,  when  he  found 
himself  in  the  saddle  upon  the  equerry's  horse. 

"Yes;  but  this  is  a  kindness  on  the  part  of  Aramis.  I 
have  not  my  stud  here,  and  Aramis  has  placed  his  stables  at 
my  disposal." 

"Good  horses  for  bishop's  horses,  mordioux!"  said  D'Ar- 
tagnan.    "It  is  true,  Aramis  is  a  bishop  of  a  peculiar  kind." 

"He  is  a  holy  man,"  replied  Porthos,  in  a  tone  almost 
nasal,  and  with  his  eyes  raised  toward  heaven. 

"Then  he  is  much  changed,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "you 
and  I  have  known  him  passably  profane." 

"Grace  has  touched  him,"  said  Porthos. 

"Bravo!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "that  redoubles  my  desire  to 
see  my  dear  old  friend." 

And  he  spurred  his  horse,  which  sprang  off  into  a  more 
rapid  pace. 

''Peste!"  said  Porthos,  "if  we  go  on  at  this  rate,  we  shall 
only  take  one  hour  instead  of  two." 

"To  go  how  far,  do  you  say,  Porthos?" 

"Four  leagues  and  a  half." 

"That  will  be  a  good  pace." 

"I  could  have  embarked  you  on  the  canal,  but  the  devil 
take  rowers  and  boat-horses!  The  first  are  like  tortoises, 
the  second  like  snails;  and   when  a  man    s  able  to  put  s 


THE   V1C0MTE    DE   BKAGELONNE.  459 

good  horse  between  his  knees,  that  horse  is  better  worth 
than  rowers  or  any  other  means." 

''You  are  right;  you  above  all,  Porthos,  who  always  look 
magnificent  on  horseback." 

"Rather  heavy,  my  friend;  I  was  weighed  the  other  day." 

"And  what  do  you  weigh?" 

"Three  hundredweight,"  said  Porthos  proudly. 

"Bravo!" 

"So  that  you  must  perceive  that  I  am  forced  to  choose 
horses  whose  loins  are  straight  and  wide;  otherwise  I  break 
them  down  in  two  hours." 

"Yes,  giant's  horses  you  must  have,  must  you  not?" 

"You  are  very  polite,  my  friend,"  replied  the  engineer, 
with  an  affectionate  majesty. 

"As  a  case  in  point,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  "your  horse 
seems  to  sweat  already." 

"Dame!    It  is  hot.     Ah,  ah!  do  you  see  Vannes  now?" 

"Yes,  perfectly.     It  is  a  handsome  city,  apparently." 

"Charming,  according  to  Aramis,  at  least;  but  I  think  it 
black;  but  black  seems  to  be  considered  handsome  by 
artists;  I  am  very  sorry  for  it." 

"Why  so,  Porthos?" 

"Because  I  have  lately  had  my  chateau  of  Pierrefonds, 
which  was  gray  with  age,  plastered  white." 

"Humph!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "but  white  is  more  cheer- 
ful." 

"Yes,  but  it  is  less  august,  as  Aramis  tells  me.  Fortu- 
nately, there  are  dealers  in  black  as  well  as  white.  I  will 
have  Pierrefonds  replastered  in  black;  that  is  the  whole  of 
it.  If  gray  is  handsome,  you  understand,  my  friend,  black 
must  be  superb." 

"Da?ne!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "that  appears  logical." 

"Were  you  never  at  Vannes,  D'Artagnan?" 

"Never." 

"Then  you  know  nothing  of  the  city?" 

"Nothing." 

"Well,  look!"  said  Porthos,  raising  himself  in  his  stir- 
rups, which  made  the  fore-quarters  of  his  horse  bend  sadly. 
"Do  you  see  that  corner,  in  the  sun,  yonder?" 

"Yes,  I  see  it  plainly." 

"Well,  that  is  the  cathedral." 

"Which  is  called?" 

"St..  Pierre.  Now  look  agaii-  -ii?  the  faubourg,  on  the 
left,  do  you  see  another  cross'  ' 

"Perfectly  well" 


460  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

''That  is  St.  Paterae,  the  parish  preferred  by  Aram  is." 

"Indeed!" 

"Without  doubt.  St.  Paterae,  see  you,  passes  for  hav- 
ing been  the  first  bishop  of  Vannes.  It  is  true  that  Aramis 
pretends  that  he  was  not.  But  he  is  so  learned  that  that 
may  be  only  a  paro — a  para " 

"But  a  paradox,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Precisely;  thank  you;  my  tongue  slips,  I  am  so  hot." 

"My  friend,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "continue  your  interest- 
ing description,  I  beg.  What  is  that  large  white  building 
with  many  windows?" 

"Oh!  that  is  the  college  of  the  Jesuits.  Pardieu  !  you 
have  a  lucky  hand.  Do  you  see,  close  to  the  college,  a 
large  house  with  steeples,  turrets,  and  built  in  a  handsome 
Gothic  style,  as  that  brute,  Monsieur  Getard,  says?" 

"Yes,  that  is  plainly  to  be  seen.     Well?" 

"Well,  that  is  where  Aramis  resides." 

"What!  does  he  not  reside  at  the  episcopal  palace?" 

"No,  that  is  in  ruins.  The  palace  likewise  is  in  the  city, 
and  Aramis  prefers  the  faubourgs.  That  is  why,  as  I  told 
you,  he  is  partial  to  St.  Paterae;  St.  Paterae  is  in  the  fau- 
bourg. Besides,  there  are  in  this  faubourg  a  mail,  a  tennis- 
court,  and  a  house  of  Dominicans.  Look,  that  where  the 
handsome  steeple  rises  to  the  heavens." 

"Well?" 

"Next,  see  you,  the  faubourg  is  like  a  separate  city;  it 
has  its  walls,  its  towers,  its  ditches;  the  quay  is  upon  it 
likewise,  and  the  boats  land  at  the  quay.  If  our  little  cor- 
sair did  not  draw  eight  feet  of  water,  we  could  have  come 
full  sail  up  to  Aramis'  windows." 

"Porthos,  Porthos,"  cried  D'Artagnan,  "you  are  a  well 
of  knowledge,  a  spring  of  ingenious  and  profound  reflections 
Porthos,  you  no  longer  surprise  me,  you  confound  me." 

"Here  we  are  arrived,"  said  Porthos,  turning  the  con- 
versation with  his  usual  modesty. 

"And  high  time  we  were,"  thought  D'Artagnan,  "for 
Aramis'  horse  is  melting  away  like  a  horse  of  ice." 

They  entered  almost  at  the  same  instant  into  the  fau- 
bourg; but  scarcely  had  they  gone  a  hundred  paces  when 
they  were  surprised  to  find  the  streets  strewed  with  leaves 
and  flowers. 

Against  the  old  walls  of  Vannes  were  hung  the  oldest  and 
the  strangest  tapestries  of  France.  From  over  balconies 
fell  long  white  sheets  stuck  all  over  with  bouquets.  The 
streets  were  deserted;  it  was  plain  that  the  whole  popula- 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONNE.  461 

tion  was  assembled  an  one  point.  The  blinds  were  closed, 
and  the  breeze  penetrated  into  the  houses  under  the  hang- 
ings, which  cast  long  black  shades  between  their  places  of 
issue  and  the  walls.  Suddenly,  at  the  turning  of  a  street, 
chants  struck  the  ears  of  the  newly  arrived  travelers.  A 
crowd  in  holiday  garb  appeared  through  the  vapors  of 
incense  which  mounted  to  the  heavens  in  blue  flocks,  and 
clouds  of  rose-leaves  flew  up  as  high  as  the  first  stories, 
Above  all  heads  were  to  be  seen  the  cross  and  banners,  the 
sacred  symbols  of  religion.  Then,  beneath  these  crosses 
and  banners,  as  if  protected  by  them,  was  a  whole  world  of 
young  girls  clothed  in  white,  and  crowned  with  cornflowers. 
At  the  two  sides  of  the  street,  inclosing  the  cortege, 
marched  the  guards  of  the  garrison,  carrying  bouquets  in 
the  barrels  of  their  muskets  and  on  the  points  of  their  lances. 
This  was  a  procession.  While  D'Artagnan  and  Porthos 
were  looking  on  with  a  fervor  of  good  taste,  which  dis- 
guised an  extreme  impatience  to  get  forward,  a  magnificent 
dais  approached,  preceded  by  a  hundred  Jesuits  and  a  hun- 
dred Dominicans,  and  escorted  by  two  archdeacons,  a  treas- 
urer, a  plenipotentiary,  and  twelve  canons.  A  chanter  with 
a  thundering  voice — a  chanter  certainly  picked  out  from  all 
the  voices  of  France,  as  was  the  drum-mi^jorof  the  Imperial 
Guard  from  all  the  giants  of  the  empire — a  chanter  escorted 
by  four  other  chanters,  who  appeared  to  be  there  only  to 
serve  him  as  an  accompaniment,  made  the  air  resound,  and 
the  windows  of  all  the  houses  vibrate.  Under  the  dais  ap- 
peared a  pale  and  noble  countenance,  with  black  eyes,  black 
hair  streaked  with  threads  of  white,  a  delicate,  compressed 
mouth,  a  prominent  and  angular  chin.  This  head,  full  of 
graceful  majesty,  was  covered  with  the  episcopal  miter,  a 
headdress  which  gave  it,  in  addition  to  the  character  of 
sovereignty,  that  of  asceticism  and  evangelic  meditation. 

"Aramis!"  cried  the  musketeer  involuntarily,  as  this 
lofty  countenance  passed  before  him.  The  prelate  started 
at  the  sound  of  the  voice.  He  raised  his  large  black  eyes, 
with  their  long  lashes,  and  turned  them  without  hesitation 
toward  the  spot  whence  the  exclamation  proceeded.  At  a 
glance  he  saw  Porthos  and  D'Artagnan  close  to  him.  On 
his  part,  D'Artagnan,  thanks  to  the  keenness  of  his  sight, 
had  seen  all,  seized  all.  The  full  portrait  of  the  prelate 
had  entered  his  memory,  never  to  leave  it.  One  thing  had 
particularly  struck  D'Artagnan.  On  perceiving  him, 
Aramis  had  colored,  then  he  had  concentrated  under  his 
eyelids  the  fire  of  the  look  of  the  master  and  the  impercep- 


462  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

tible  affection  of  the  look  of  the  friend.  It  was  evident 
that  Aramis  addressed  this  question  to  himself:  "Why  is 
D'Artagnan  with  Porthos,  and  what  does  he  want  at  Vali- 
nes?" Aramis  comprehended  all  that  was  passing  in  the 
mind  of  D'Artagnan,  on  turning  his  look  upon  him  again, 
and  seeing  that  he  had  not  lowered  his  eyes.  He  knew  the 
acuteness  and  intelligence  of  his  friend;  he  feared  to  let 
him  divine  the  secret  of  his  blush  and  his  astonishment. 
He  was  still  the  same  Aramis,  always  having  a  secret  to 
conceal.  Therefore,  to  put  an  end  to  this  look  of  an  in- 
quisitor, which  it  was  necessary  to  get  rid  of  at  all  events, 
as,  at  any  price,  a  general  extinguishes  a  battery  which 
annoys  him,  Aramis  stretched  forth  his  beautiful  white 
hand,  upon  which  sparkled  the  amethyst  of  the  pastoral 
ring;  he  cut  the  air  with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  poured 
out  his  benediction  upon  his  two  friends.  Perhaps, 
thoughtless  and  absent,  D'Artagnan,  impious  in  spite  of 
himself,  might  not  have  bent  beneath  this  holy  benediction, 
but  Porthos  saw  his  distraction,  and  laying  his  friendly 
hand  upon  the  back  of  his  companion,  he  crushed  him  down 
toward  the  earth.  D'Artagnan  was  forced  to  give  way; 
indeed,  he  was  little  short  of  being  flat  on  the  ground.  In 
the  meantime  Aramis  had  passed.  D'Artagnan,  like 
Antaeus,  had  only  touched  the  ground,  when  he  turned 
toward  Porthos,  almost  angry.  But  there  was  no  mistak- 
ing the  intention  of  the  brave  Hercules;  it  was  a  feeling  of 
religious  propriety  that  had  influenced  him.  Besides, 
speech,  with  Porthos,  instead  of  disguising  his  thought, 
always  completed  it. 

"It  is  very  polite  of  him,"  said  he,  "to  have  given  his 
benediction  to  us  alone*  Decidedly,  he  is  a  holy  man,  and 
a  brave  man." 

Less  convinced  than  Porthos,  D'Artagnan  made  no  reply. 

"Observe,  my  friend,"  continued  Porthos,  "he  has  seen 
lis;  and,  instead  of  continuing  to  walk  on  at  the  simple 
pace  of  the  procession,  as  he  did  just  now — see,  what  a 
hurry  he  is  in;  do  you  see  how  the  cortege  is  increasing  its 
speed?  He  is  eager  to  join  us  and  embrace  us,  is  that  dear 
Aramis." 

"That  is  true,"  replied  D'Artagnan  aloud.  Then,  to 
himself:  "It  is  equally  true  he  has  seen  me,  the  fox,  and 
will  have  time  to  prepare  himself  to  receive  me." 

But  the  procession  had  passed;  the  road  was  free.  D'Ar 
tagnan  and  Porthos  walked  straight  up  to  the  episcopus 
palace^,  which  was  surrounded   by  a  numerous  o-nwd.  anx 


THE   VICOMTE    PE    BRAGELOtflfE.  463 

ious  to  see  the  prelate  return.  D'Artagnan  remarked  that 
this  crowd  was  composed  principally  of  citizens  and  mili- 
tary men.  He  recognized  in  the  nature  of  these  partisans 
the  address  of  his  friend.  Aramis  was  not  the  man  to  seek 
for  a  useless  popularity.  He  cared  very  little  for  being  be- 
loved by  people  who  could  be  of  no  service  to  him.  Women, 
children,  and  old  men,  that  is  to  say,  the  cortege  of  ordi- 
nary pastors,  was  not  the  cortege  for  him. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  two  friends  had  passed  the  thres- 
hold of  the  palace,  Aramis  returned  like  a  triumphant  con- 
queror; the  soldiers  presented  arms  to  him  as  to  a  superior; 
the  citizens  bowed  to  him  as  to  a  friend  and  a  patron,  rather 
than  as  the  head  of  the  Church.  There  was  something  in 
Aramis  resembling  those  Roman  senators  who  had  their 
doors  always  surrounded  by  clients.  At  the  foot  of  the 
prison  he  had  a  conference  of  half  a  minute  with  a  Jesuit, 
who,  in  order  to  speak  to  him  more  secretly,  passed  his 
head  under  the  dais.  He  then  re-entered  his  palace;  the 
doors  closed  slowly,  and  the  crowd  melted  away,  while 
chants  and  prayers  were  still  resounding  abroad.  It  was  a 
magnificent  day.  Earthly  perfumes  were  mingled  with  the 
perfumes  of  the  air  and  the  sea.  The  city  breathed  happi- 
ness, joy,  and  strength.  D'Artagnan  felt  something  like 
the  presence  of  an  invisible  hand  which  had,  ail-powerfully, 
created  this  strength,  this  joy,  this  happiness,  and  spread 
(everywhere  these  perfumes. 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  he,  "Porthos  has  got  fat;  but  Aramis  is 
; grown  taller!" 


CHAPTER  LXXI1. 

THE  GRANDEUR  OF  THE   BISHOP  OF  VANNES. 

Porthos  and  D'Artagnan  had  entered  the  bishop's  resi 
dence  by  a  private  door,  as  his  personal  friends.  Of  course, 
Porthos  served  D'Artagnan  as  guide.  The  worthy  baron 
comported  himself  everywhere  rather  as  if  he  were  at  home. 
Nevertheless,  whether  it  was  a  tacit  acknowledgment  of  the 
sanctity  of  the  personage  of  Aramis  and  his  character,  or 
the  habit  of  respecting  him  who  imposed  upon  him  morally. 
a  vorthy  habit  which  had  always  made  Porthos  a  model 
soldier  and  an  excellent  companion;  for  all  these  reasons, 
say  we,  Porthos  preserved  in  the  palace  of  His  Greatness 
Hie  Bishop  of  Yannes  a  sort  of  reserve  ^hich  D'Artagnan 


464  THI  VICOMTE  DE  BRAGELONNE. 

remarked  at  once,  in  the  attitude  he  took  with  respect  tc 
the  valets  and  officers.  And  yet  this  reserve  did  not  go  so 
far  as  to  prevent  hisasking  questions.  Porthos  questioned. 
They  learned  that  his  greatness  had  just  returned  to  his 
apartment,  and  was  preparing  to  appear  in  familiar  in- 
timacy, less  majestic  than  he  had  appeared  with  his  flock. 
After  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which  D'Artagnan  and  Porthoa 
passed  in  looking  mutually  at  each  other  with  the  whites  of 
their  eyes,  and  turning  their  thumbs  in  all  the  different 
evolutions  which  go  from  north  to  south,  a  door  of  the 
chamber  opened  and  his  greatness  appeared,  dressed  in  the 
undress,  complete,  of  a  prelate.  Aramis  carried  his  head 
high,  like  a  man  accustomed  to  command;  his  violet  robe 
was  tucked  up  on  one  side,  and  his  white  hand  was  on  his 
hip.  He  had  retained  the  fine  mustache  and  the  length- 
ened royale  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIII.  He  exhaled,  on  en- 
tering, that  delicate  perfume  which,  among  elegant  men 
and  women  of  high  fashion,  never  changes,  and  appears  to 
be  incorporated  in  the  person,  of  whom  it  has  become  the 
natural  emanation.  In  this  case  only,  the  perfume  had 
retained  something  of  the  religious  sublimity  of  incense. 
It  no  longer  intoxicated,  it  penetrated;  it  no  longer  in- 
spired  desire,  it  inspired  respect.  Aramis,  on  entering  the 
chamber,  did  not  hesitate  an  instant;  and  without  pro- 
nouncing one  word,  which,  whatever  it  might  be,  would 
have  been  cold  on  such  an  occasion,  he  went  straight  up  to 
the  musketeer,  so  well  disguised  under  the  costume  of  M. 
Agnan,  and  pressed  him  in  his  arms  with  a  tenderness 
which  the  most  distrustful  could  not  have  suspected  of  cole' 
ness  or  affectation. 

D'Artagnan,  on  his  part,  embraced  him  with  equal  ardor. 
Porthos  pressed  the  delicate  hand  of  Aramis  in  his  immense 
hands,  and  D'Artagnan  remarked  that  his  greatness  gave 
him  his  left  hand,  probably  from  habit,  seeing  that  Porthos 
already  ten  times  had  been  near  injuring  his  fingers,  covered 
with  rings,  by  pounding  his  flesh  in  the  vise  of  his  fist. 
Warned  by  the  pain,  Aramis  was  cautious,  and  only  pre- 
sented flesh  to  be  bruised,  and  not  fingers  to  be  crushed, 
against  gold  or  the  angles  of  diamonds. 

Between  two  embraces  Aramis  looked  D'Artagnan  in  the 
face,  offered  him  a  chair,  sitting  down  himself  in  the  shade, 
observing  that  the  light  fell  full  upon  the  face  of  his  inter- 
locutor. This  maneuver,  familar  to  diplomatists  and 
women,  resembles  much  the  advantage  of  the  guard  which, 
according  to  their  skill  or  habit,  combatants  endeavor  to 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  465 

'take  on  the   ground   at  a  duel.     D'Artagnan  was  not  the 
dupe  of  this  maneuver;  but  he  did  not  appear  to  perceive 
it.     He  felt  himself  caught;  but  precisely  because  he  was 
:  caught,  he  felt  himself  on   the  road  to  discovery,  and  it 
little  imported   to  him,  old   condottiere   as   he    was,  to  be 
f  beaten  in  appearance,  provided  he  drew  from  his  pretended 
i  defeat  the  advantages  of  victory.     Aramis  began  the  con- 
versation. 

"Ah!  dear  friend,  my  good  D'Artagnan,"  said  he;  "what 
an  excellent  chance!" 

"It  is  a  chance,  my  reverend  companion,"  said  D'Artag 
man,  "that  I  will  call  friendship.  I  seek  you,  as  I  always 
I  have  sought  you,  when  I  had  any  grand  enterprise  to  pro- 
ipose  to  you,  or  some  hours  of  liberty  to  give  you=" 

"Ah,   indeed,"   said   Aramis,    without   explosion,    "you 
have  been  seeking  me?" 

"Eh!  yes,  he  has  been  seeking  you,  Aramis,"  said  Por- 
I  thos,  "and  the  proof  is  that  he  has  unharbored  me  at  Belle- 
t  Isle.     That  is  amiable,  is  it  not?" 

"Ah!  yes,"  said  Aramis,  "at  Belle-Isle!  Certainly." 
"Good!"  said  D'Artagnan;  "there  is  my  booby   Porthos, 
without  thinking  of  it,  has  fired  the  first  cannon  of  attack." 
"At   Belle-Isle!"    said    Aramis,  "in   that   hole,    in    that 
desert!     That  is  kind,  indeed!" 

"And  it  was  I  who  told  him  you  were  at  Vannes,"  con- 
I  tinued  Porthos,  in  the  same  tone. 

D'Artagnan  armed    his   mouth   with   a    finesse    almost 
ironical. 

"Yes,  I  knew,  but  I  was  willing  to  see,"  replied  he. 
"To  see  what?" 

"If  our  old  friendship  still  held  out,  if,  on  seeing  each 
I   other,  our  heart,  hardened  as  it  is  by  age,  would  still  let  the 
(>  old  cry  of  joy  escape  which  salutes  the  coming  of  a  friend. 
"Well,  and  you  must  have  been  satisfied,"  said  Aramis. 
"So,  so." 
"How  is  that?" 

"Yes,  Porthos  said  hush,  and  you " 

"Well,  and  I?" 

"And  you  gave  me  your  benediction." 
"What  would  you   have,  my  friend?"  said  Aramis,  smil- 
ing; "that  is  the  most  precious  thing  that  a  poor  prelate . 
like  me  has  to  give." 

"Indeed,  my  dear  friend!" 
"Doubtless." 

"And  yet  they  say  at  Paris  that  the  bishopric  of  Vannes 
is  one  of  the  best  in  Praace'*' 


466  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAOELONXE. 

"Ah!  you  are  now  speaking  of  temporal  wealth,"  said 
Aramis,  with  a  careless  air. 

"To  be  sure,  I  wish  to  speak  of  that;  I  hold  by  it,  on  my 
part.1' 

"In  that  case,  let  me  speak  of  it,"  said  Aramis,  with  a 
smile. 

"You  own  yourself  to  be  one  of  the  richest  prelates  in 
France?" 

"My  friend,  since  you  ask  me  to  give  you  an  account,  I 
will  tell  you  that  the  bishopric  of  Vannes  is  worth  about 
twenty  thousand  livres  a  year,  neither  more  nor  less.  It  is 
a  diocese  which  contains  a  hundred  and  sixty  parishes." 

"That  is  very  pretty,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"It  is  superb!"  said  Porthos. 

"And  yet,"  resumed  D'Artagnan,  throwing  his  eyes  over 
Aramis,  "you  don't  mean  to  bury  yourself  here  forever?" 

"Pardon  me.     Only  I  do  not  admit  the  word  bury." 

"But  it  seems  to  me  that  at  this  distance  from  Paris  a 
man  is  buried,  or  nearly  so." 

"My  friend,  I  am  getting  old,"  said  Aramis;  "the  noise 
and  bustle  of  a  city  no  longer  suit  me.  At  fifty-seven  we 
ought  to  seek  calm  and  meditation.  I  have  found  them 
here.  What  is  there  more  beautiful,  and  stern  at  the  same 
time,  than  this  old  Amorica?  I  find  here,  dear  D'Artag- 
nan, all  that  is  opposite  to  what  I  formerly  loved,  and  that 
is  what  must  happen  ;>t  the  end  of  life,  which  is  opposite  to 
the  beginning.  A  little  of  my  old  pleasure  of  former  times 
still  comes  to  salute  me  here,  now  and  then,  without  divert- 
ing me  from  the  road  of  salvation.  I  am  still  of  this  world, 
and  yet  every  step  that  I  take  brings  me  nearer  to  God." 

"Eloquent,  wise,  and  discreet,  you  are  an  accomplished 
prelate,  Aramis,  and  I  offer  you  my  congratulations." 

"But,"  said  Aramis,  smiling,  "you  did  not  come  here 
only  for  the  purpose  of  paying  me  compliments.  Speak: 
what  brings  you  hither?  May  it  be  that,  in  some  fashion 
:t  other,  you  want  me?" 

"Thank  God,  no,  my  friend,"  said  D'Artagnan;  "it  is 
nothing  of  that  kind.     I  am  rich  and  free." 

"Eich!"  exclaimed  Aramis. 

"Yes,  rich  for  me,  not  for  you,  or  Porthos,  understand. 
I  have  an  income  of  about  fifteen  thousand  livres." 

Aramis  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  He  could  not  believe 
— particularly  on  seeing  his  friend  in  such  humble  guise — 
that  he  had  made  so  fine  a  fortune.  Then  D'Artagnan, 
seeing  that  the  hour  for  explanations  was  come,  related  tho 


THE  VICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONKE.  46? 

history  of  his  English  adventures.  During  the  recital  he 
saw  ten  times  the  eyes  of  the  prelate  sparkle  and  his  slender 
lingers  work  convulsively.  As  to  Porthos,  it  was  not  ad- 
miration he  manifested  for  D'Artagnan;  it  was  enthusiasm, 
it  was  delirium.     When  D'Artagnan  had  finished: 

"Well,"  said  Aramis. 

"Well,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "you  see,  then..  I  have  in  Eng- 
land friends  and  property,  in  France  a  treasure.  If  youi 
heart  tells  you  so,  I  offer  them  to  you.  That  is  what  J 
came  here  for." 

However  firm  was  his  look,  he  could  not  this  tim:,  sup^ 
port  the  look  of  Aramis.  He  allowed,  therefore,  his  eye  to 
stray  upon  Porthos — like  the  sword  which  yields  to  too 
powerful  a  pressure,  and  seeks  another  road. 

"At  all  events,"  said  the  bishop,  "you  have  assumed  a 
singular  traveling  costume,  old  friend." 

"Frightful!  I  know  it  is.  You  may  understand  why  I 
would  not  travel  asacaralier  or  noble;  since  I  became  rich 
I  am  miserly." 

"And  you  say,  then,  you  came  to  Belle-Isle,"  said 
Aramis,  without  transition.  "Yes,"  replied  D'Artagnan; 
"I  knew  I  should  find  you  and  Porthos  there." 

"Find  me!"  cried  Aramis.  "Me!  For  the  last  year  past 
I  have  not  once  crossed  the  sea." 

"Oh!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  should  never  have  supposed 
you  such  a  housekeeper." 

"Ah,  dear  friend,  I  must  tell  you  that  1  am  no  longer  the 
man  of  former  times.  Eiding  on  horseback  is  unpleasant  to 
me;  the  sea  fatigues  me;  I  am  a  poor,  ailing  priest,  always 
complaining,  always  grumbling,  and  inclined  to  the  austeri- 
ties which  appear  to  accord  with  old  age — parleys  with 
death.     I  abide,  my  dear  D'Artagnan,  I  abide." 

"Well,  that  is  all  the  better,  my  friend,  for  we  aha)) 
probably  become  neighbors  soon." 

"Bah!"  said  Aramis,  with  a  degree  of  surprise  be  chd  not 
even  seek  to  dissemble.     "You  my  neighbor?" 

" Morchoux!  yes." 

"How  so?" 

"I  am  about  to  purchase  some  very  profitable  salt  mines^ 
which  are  situated  between  Pirial  and  Croisic.  Imagine, 
my  friend,  a  clear  profit  of  twelve  per  cent.  Never  any 
deficiency,  never  any  idle  expenses;  the  ocean,  faithful  and 
regular,  brings  every  six  hours  its  contingent  to  my  coffers. 
I  am  the  first  Parisian  who  has  dreamed  of  such  a  specula* 
tion.     Do  not  say  anything  about  it,  I  beg  of  you,  and  in  * 


468  THE   TICOMTE   DE  BRAGELONKE. 

short  time  we  will  communicate  on  the  matter.  I  am  to 
have  three  leagues  of  country  for  thirty  thousand  livres." 

Aramis  darted  a  look  at  Porthos,  as  if  to  ask  if  all  this 
were  true,  if  some  snare  were  not  concealed  beneath  this 
outward  indifference.  But  soon,  as  if  ashamed  of  having 
consulted  this  poor  auxiliary,  he  collected  all  his  forces  for 
a  fresh  assault  and  a  fresh  defense. 

"I  heard  that  you  had  had  some  difference  with  the  court) 
,but  that  you  had  come  out  of  it,  as  you  know  how  to  come 
out  of  everything,  D'Artagnan,  with  the  honors  of  war." 

"I!"  said  the  musketeer,  with  a  burst  of  laughter  that 
could  not  conceal  his  embarrassment;  for,  from  these  words, 
Aramis  was  not  unlikely  to  be  acquainted  with  his  last  rela- 
tions with  the  king.  "I!  Oh,  tell  me  all  about  that,  pray, 
Aramis." 

"Yes,  it  was  related  to  me,  a  poor  bishop  lost  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  Landes,  that  the  king  had  taken  you  as  the  con- 
fidant of  his  amours." 

"With  whom?" 

"With  Mademoiselle  de  Mancini." 

D'Artagnan  breathed  freely  again. 

"Ah!  I  don't  say  no  to  that,"  replied  he. 

"It  appears  that  the  king  took  you,  one  morning,  over 
the  bridge  of  Blois  to  talk  with  his  lady-love." 

"That's  true,"  said  D'Artagnan.  "And  you  know  that, 
do  you?  Well,  then,  you  must  know  that  the  same  day  I 
gave  in  my  resignation?" 

"What,  sincerely?" 

"Nothing  could  be  more  sincere." 

"It  was  after  that,  then,  that  you  went  to  the  Comte  de 
la  Fere's?" 

"Yes." 

"Afterward  to  me?" 

"Yes." 

"And  then  Porthos?" 

"Yes."  _ 

"Was  it  in  order  to  pay  us  a  simple  visit?" 

"NO;  I  did  not  know  you  were  engaged,  and  I  wished  to 
take  you  with  me  into  England." 

"Yes,  I  understand;  and  then  you  executed  alone,  won- 
derful man  as  you  are,  what  you  wanted  to  propose  to  us 
all  four  to  do.  I  suspected  you  had  had  something  to  do  in 
that  famous  restoration  when  I  learned  that  you  had  been 
seen  at  King  Charles'  receptions,  and  that  he  appeared  to 
treat  you  like  a  friend,  or,  rather,  like  a  person  to  whom 
he  was  und^"  "*»  obligation," 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRA.GELOK'NE.  469 

"But  how  the  devil  could  you  learn  all  that?"  asked 
D'Artagnan,  who  began  to  fear  that  the  investigation  of 
Aramis  would  extend  further  than  he  wished. 

"Dear  D'Artagnan,"  said  the  prelate,  "my  friendship 
resembles,  in  a  degree,  the  solicitude  of  that  night  watch 
whom  we  have  in  the  little  tower  of  the  mole  at  the  extrem- 
ity of  the  quay.  That  brave  man,  every  night,  lights  a 
lantern  to  direct  the  barks  which  come  from  sea.  He  is 
concealed  in  his  sentry-box,  and  the  fishermen  do  not  see 
him;  but  he  follows  them  with  interest;  he  divines  them; 
he  calls  them;  he  attracts  them  into  the  way  to  the  port.  I 
resemble  this  watcher.  From  time  to  time  some  news 
reaches  me,  and  recalls  to  my  remembrance  all  that  I  loved. 
Then  I  follow  the  friends  of  old  days  over  the  stormy  ocean 
of  the  world,  I,  a  poor  watcher,  to  whom  God  has  kindly 
given  the  shelter  of  a  sentry-box." 

"Well,  what  did  I  do  when  I  came  from  England?" 

"Ah!  there,"  replied  Aramis,  "you  get  out  of  my  sight. 
I  know  nothing  of  you  since  your  return,  D'Artagnan;  my 
sight  grows  thick.  I  regretted  you  did  not  think  of  me. 
I  wept  over  your  forgetfulness.  I  was  wrong.  I  see  you 
again,  and  it  is  a  festival,  a  great  festival,  I  swear  to  you! 
How  is  Athos?" 

"Very  well,  thank  you." 

"And  our  young  pupil,  Kaoul?'* 

"He  seems  to  have  inherited  the  skill  of  his  father, 
Athos,  and  the  strength  of  his  tutor,  Porthos." 

"And  on  what  occasion  have  you  been  able  to  judge  of 
that?" 

"Eh!  mon  Dieu!  the  eve  of  my  departure  from  Paris." 

"Indeed!  what  was  it?" 

"Yes;  there  was  an  execution  at  the  Greve,  and  in  con- 
sequence of  that  excution,  a  riot.  We  happened,  by  acci- 
dent, to  be  in  the  riot;  and  in  this  riot  we  were  obliged  tc 
have  recourse  to  our  swords.     And  he  did  wonders." 

"Bah!  what  did  he  do?" 

"Why,  in  the  first  place,  he  threw  a  man  out  of  the  win- 
dow, as  he  would  have  thrown  a  bale  of  cotton." 

"Come,  that's  pretty  well,"  said  Porthos. 

"Then  he  drew,  and  cut  and  thrust  away,  as  we  fellsows 
used  to  do  in  good  old  times." 

"And  what  was  the  cause  of  this  riot?"  said  Porthos. 

D'Artagnan  remarked  upon  the  face  of  Aramis  a  com- 
plete indifference  to  this  question  of  Portho.s. 

"Why,"  said  he,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  Aramis,  "on  account 


470  THE   YICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOXXE. 

of  two  farmers  of  the  revenues,  friends  of  Monsieur  Fou- 
quet, whom  the  king  forced  to  disgorge  their  plunder,  and 
then  hanged  them." 

A  scarcely  perceptihle  contraction  of  the  prelate's  brow 
showed  that  he  had  heard  D'Artagnan's  reply. 

"Oh,  oh!"  said  Porthos;  "and  what  were  the  names  of 
these  friends  of  Monsieur  Fouquet?" 

"Messieurs  d'Eymeris  and  Lyodot,"  said  D'Artagnan. 
;<Do  you  know  those  names,  Aramis?" 

"No,"  said  the  prelate  disdainfully;  "they  sound  like 
the  names  of  financiers." 

"Exactly;  so  they  were." 

"Oh!  Monsieur  Fouquet  allows  his  friends  to  be  hanged, 
then!"  said  Porthos. 

"And  why  not?"  said  Aramis.    "Why,  it  seems  to  me " 

"If  these  culprits  were  hanged,  it  was  by  order  of  the 
king.  Now,  Monsieur  Fouquet,  although  surintendant  of 
the  finances,  has  not,  I  believe,  the  right  of  life  and  death." 

"That  may  be,"  said  Porthos;  "but  in  the  place  of  Mon- 
sieur Fouquet " 

Aramis  was  afraid  Porthos  was  about  to  say  something 
awkward,  so  interrupted  him. 

"Come,  D'Artagnan,"  said  he;  "this  is  quite  enough  about 
other  people;  let  us  talk  a  little  about  you." 

"Of  me  you  know  all  that  I  can  tell  you.  On  the  con- 
trary, let  me  hear  a  little  about  you,  Aramis." 

"I  have  told  you,  my  friend.  There  is  nothing  of  Aramis 
left  in  me." 

"Nor  of  the  Abbe  d'Herblay  even?" 

"No,  not  even  of  him.  You  see  a  man  whom  God  has 
taken  by  the  hand,  whom  He  has  conducted  to  a  position 
that  he  could  never  have  dared  even  to  hope  for." 

"God?"  asked  D'Artagnan. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that  is  strange!  I  have  been  told  it  was  Monsieur 
Fouquet." 

"Who  told  you  that?"  cried  Aramis,  without  being  able, 
with  all  the  power  of  his  will,  to  prevent  the  color  rising  to 
his  cheeks. 

"Ma foil  why,  Bazin." 

"The  fool!" 

"I  do  not  say  he  is  a  man  of  genius,  it  is  true;  but  he 
told  me  so;  and  after  him  I  repeat  it  to  you." 

"1  have  never  seen  Monsieur  Fouquet,"  replied  Aramis. 
with  a  look  as  pure  and  calm  as  that  of  a  virgin  who  has 
never  told,  a  lie. 


THE   TICOMTE   DE    BRAGELOXNE.  471 

"Well,  but  if  you  have  seen  him  and  known  him,  there  is 
no  harm  in  that,"  replied  D'Artagnan.  "Monsieur  Fou- 
quet  is  a  very  good  sort  of  a  man." 

"Humph!" 

"A  great  politician." 

Aramis  made  a  gesture  of  indifference. 

"An  all-powerful  minister." 

"I  only  hold  of  the  king  and  the  pope." 

"Dame!  listen,  then,"  said  D'Artagnan,  in  the  most 
natural  tone  imaginable.  "I  said  that  because  everybody 
here  swears  by  Monsieur  Fouquet.  The  plain  is  Monsieur 
Fouquet's;  the  salt  mines  I  am  about  to  buy  are  Monsieur 
Fouquet's;  the  island  in  which  Porthos  studies  topography 
is  Monsieur  Fouquet's;  the  garrison  is  Monsieur  Fouquet's; 
the  galleys  are  Monsieur  Fouquet's.  I  confess,  then,  that 
nothing  would  have  surprised  me  in  your  enfeoffment,  or, 
rather,  that  of  your  diocese,  to  Monsieur  Fouquet.  He  is 
another  master  than  the  king,  that  is  all,  and  quite  as 
powerful  as  the  king." 

"Thank  God,  I  am  not  enfeoffed  to  anybody;  I  belong  to 
nobody,  and  am  entirely  my  own,"  replied  Aramis,  who, 
during  this  conversation,  followed  with  his  eye  every  ges- 
ture of  D'Artagnan,  every  glance  of  Porthos.  But  D'Ar- 
tagnan was  impassible  and  Porthos  motionless;  the  thrusts 
aimed  so  skillfully  were  parried  by  an  able  adversary;  not 
one  hit  the  mark.  Nevertheless,  both  began  to  feel  the 
fatigue  of  such  a  contest,  and  the  announcement  of  supper 
was  well  received  by  everybody.  Supper  changed  the 
course  of  conversation.  Besides,  they  felt  that,  upon  their 
guard,  as  each  one  had  been,  they  could  neither  of  them 
boast  of  having  the  advantage.  Porthos  had  understood 
nothing  of  what  had  been  meant.  He  had  held  himself 
motionless,  because  Aramis  had  made  him  a  sign  not  to 
stir.  Supper,  for  him,  was  nothing  but  supper;  but  that 
was  quite  enough  for  Porthos.  The  supper,  then,  went  off 
very  well.  D'Artagnan  was  in  high  spirits.  Aramis  ex- 
ceeded himself  in  kind  affability.  Porthos  eat  like  old 
Pelops.  Their  talk  was  of  war,  finance,  the  arts,  and  love. 
Aramis  played  astonishment  at  every  word  of  politics  D'Ar- 
tagnan risked.  This  long  series  of  surprises  increased  the 
mistrust  of  D'Artagnan,  as  the  eternal  indifference  of 
D'Artagnan  provoked  the  suspicions  of  Aramis.  At  length 
D'Artagnan  designedly  uttered  the  name  of  Colbert;  he 
had  reserved  that  stroke  for  the  last. 

"Who  is  this  Colbert?"  asked  the  bishop. 


472  THE    VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE. 

"Oh!  come,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself,  "that  is  loo 
strong!  We  must  be  careful,  mordioux !  we  must  be  care- 
ful." And  he  then  gave  Aramis  all  the  information  re- 
specting M.  Colbert  he  could  desire.  The  supper,  or, 
rather,  the  conversation,  was  prolonged  till  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning  between  D'Artagnan  and  Aramis.  At  ten 
o'clock  precisely  Porthos  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  chair,  and 
snored  like  an  organ.  At  midnight  he  woke  up,  and  they 
sent  him  to  bed. 

"Hum!"  said  he,  "I  was  near  falling  asleep;  but  that 
.Was  all  very  interesting  you  were  talking  about." 

At  one  o'clock  Aramis  conducted  D'Artagnan  to  the 
chamber  destined  for  him,  which  was  the  best  in  the 
episcopal  residence.  Two  servants  were  placed  at  his  com- 
mand.   , 

"To-mororw,  at  eight  o'clock,"  said  he,  taking  leave  of 
D'Artagnan,  "we  will  take,  if  agreeable  to  you,  a  ride  on 
horseback  with  Porthos." 

"At  eight  o'clock!"  said  D'Artagnan.     "So  late?" 

"You  know  that  I  require  seven  hours'  sleep,"  said 
Aramis. 

"That  is  true." 

"Good-night,  dear  friend."  And  he  embraced  the  mus- 
keteer cordially. 

D'Artagnan  allowed  him  to  depart;  then,  as  soon  as  the 
door  was  closed: 

"Good!"  cried  he,  "at  five  o'clock  I  will  be  on  foot." 

"This  determination  being  made,  he  went" to  bed,  and 
"folded  the  pieces  together,"  as  people  say. 


CHAPTER   LXXIII. 

IN    WHICH     PORTHOS     BEGINS    TO     BE    SORRY    FOR    HAVING 
COME   WITH    D'ARTAGNAN. 

Scarcely  had  D'Artagnan  extinguished  his  taper,  when 
Aramis,  who  had  watched  through  his  curtains  the  last 
glimmer  of  light  in  his  friend's  apartment,  traversed  the 
corridor  on  tiptoe,  and  went  to  Porthos' room.  The  giant, 
who  had  been  in  bed  nearly  an  hour  and  a  half,  lay  grandly 
stretched  out  upon  the  down  bed.  He  was  in  that  happy 
calm  of  the  first  sleep,  which,  with  Porthos,  resisted  the 
noise  of  bells  or  the  report  of  cannula;  his  head  swam  in 
that  soft  oscillation  which  reminds  us  of  the  soothing  move- 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONKE.  473 

menfc  of  a  ship.  In  a  moment  Porthos  would  have  begun 
to  dream.  The  door  of  the  chamber  opened  softly  under 
the  delicate  pressure  of  the  hand  of  Aramis.  The  bishop 
approached  the  sleeper.  A  thick  carpet  deadened  the 
sound  of  his  steps,  besides  which  Porthos  snored  in  a  man- 
ner to  drown  all  noise.     He  laid  one  hand  on  his  shoulder: 

"Rouse,"  said  he;  "wake  up,  my  dear  Porthos." 

The  voice  of  Aramis  was  soft  and  kind,  but  it  conveyed 
more  than  a  notice — it  conveyed  an  order.  His  hand  was 
light,  but  it  indicated  a  danger.  Porthos  heard  the  voice 
and  felt  the  hand  of  Aramis,  even  in  the  profoundness  of 
his  sleep.     He  started  up. 

"Who  goes  there?"  said  he,  in  his  giant's  voice. 

"Hush!  hush!     It  is  I,"  said  Aramis. 

"You,  my  friend?  And  what  the  devil  do  you  wake  me 
for?" 

"To  tell  you  that  you  must  set  off  directly." 

"Set  off?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  for?" 

"For  Paris." 

Porthos  bounded  up  in  his  bed,  and  then  sank  back  again, 
fixing  his  great  eyes  in  terror  upon  Aramis. 

"For  Paris?" 

"Yes." 

"A  hundred  leagues?"  said  he. 

"A  hundred  and  four,"  said  the  bishop. 

"Oh/  mon  Dieii !"  sighed  Porthos,  lying  down  again, 
like  those  children  who  contend  with  their  bonnes  to  gain 
an  hour  or  two  more  sleep. 

"Thirty  hours'  riding,"  said  Aramis  firmly.  "You 
know  there  are  good  relays." 

Porthos  pushed  out  one  leg,  allowing  a  groan  to  escape 
him. 

"Come,  come,  my  friend,"  insisted  the  prelate,  with  a 
sort  of  impatience. 

Porthos  drew  the  other  leg  out  of  the  bed. 

"And  is  it  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  go?"  said 
he. 

"Urgently  necessary." 

Porthos  got  upon  his  feet,  and  began  to  shake  both  walls 
and  floors  with  his  steps  of  a  marble  statue. 

"Hush!  hush!  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  my  dear  Porthos!" 
said  Aramis,  "you  will  wake  somebody." 

"Ah!  that's  true,"  replied  Porthos,  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
dery "I  forgot  that;  but  be  satisfied,  I  will  observe." 


474  THE   VICOMTE   BE   BRAOELONNE. 

And  so  saying,  he  let  fall  a  belt  loaded  with  his  sword 
and  pistols,  and  ;i  purse,  from  which  the  crowns  escaped 
with  a  vibrating  and  prolonged  noise.  This  noise  made 
the  blood  of  Aramis  boil,  while  it  drew  from  Porthos  a  for- 
midable burst  of  laughter. 

"How  droll  that  is!"  said  he,  in  the  same  voice. 

"Not  so  loud,  Porthos,  not  so  loud." 

"True,  true!"  and  he  lowered  his  voice  a  half-note.  "I 
was  going  to  say,"  continued  Porthos,  "that  it  is  droll  that 
W3  are  never  so  slow  as  when  we  are  in  a  hurry,  and  never 
make  so  much  noise  as  when  we  wish  to  be  silent." 

"Yes,  that  is  true;  but  let  us  give  the  proverb  the  lie, 
Porthos;  let  us  make  haste,  and  hold  our  tongues." 

"You  see  I  am  doing  my  best,"  said  Porthos,  putting  on 
haut-de-ch misses. 

"Very  well." 

"This  seems  to  be  something  in  haste?" 

"It  is  more  than  that,  it  is  serious,  Porthos." 

"Oh!  oh!" 

"D'Artagnan  has  questioned  you,  has  he  not?" 

"Questioned  me?" 

"Yes,  at  Belle-Isle." 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that  Porthos?" 

" Parbleu  !     It  is  impossible." 

"Recollect  yourself." 

"He  asked  me  what  I  was  doing,  and  I  told  him — study- 
ing topography.  I  would  have  made  use  of  another  word 
which  you  employed  one  day." 

"Of  castrametation?" 

"Yes,  that's  it;  but  I  never  could  recollect  it." 

"All  the  better.     What  more  did  he  ask  you?" 

"Who  Monsieur  Getard  was." 

"Next?" 

"Who  Monsieur  Jupenet  was." 

"He  did  not  happen  to  see  our  plan  of  fortifications,  did 
.he?" 

"Yes." 

"The  devil  he  did!" 

"But  don't  be  alarmed,  I  had  rubbed  out  your  writing 
with  India-rubber.  I  was  impossible  for  him  to  suppose  you 
had  given  me  any  advice  in  those  works." 

"Ay;  but  our  friend  has  very  keen  eyes." 

"What  are  you  afraid  of?" 

"I  fear  that  everything  is  discovered,  Porthos;  the  matter 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BKAGELONNE.  475 

is,  then,  to  prevent  a  great  misfortune.  I  have  given 
orders  to  my  people  to  close  all  the  gates  and  doors.  D'Ar- 
tagnan  will  not  be  able  to  get  out  before  daybreak.  Your 
horse  is  ready  saddled;  you  will  gain  the  first  relay;  by  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning  you  will  have  gone  fifteen  leagues. 
Come!" 

Aramis  then  assisted  Porthos  to  dress,  piece  by  piece, 
with  as  much  celerity  as  the  most  skillful  valet  de  cJiambre 
could  have  done.  Porthos,  half-confused,  half-stupefied, 
let  him  do  as  he  liked,  and  confounded  himself  in  excuses. 
When  he  was  ready,  Aramis  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led 
him,  making  him  place  his  foot  with  precaution  on  every 
step  of  the  stairs,  preventing  him  running  against  door- 
frames, turning  him  this  way  and  that,  as  if  Aramis  had 
been  the  giant  and  Porthos  the  dwarf.  Soul  set  fire  to  and 
elevated  matter.  A  horse  was  waiting,  ready  saddled,  in 
the  courtyard.  Porthos  mounted.  Then  Aramis  himself 
took  the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  led  him  over  some  dung 
spread  in  the  yard,  with  the  evident  intention  of  suppress- 
ing noise.  He,  at  the  same  time,  pinched  the  horse's  nose, 
to  prevent  him  neighing.  When  arrived  at  the  outward 
gate,  drawing  Porthos  toward  him,  who  was  going  off  with- 
out even  asking  him  what  for: 

"Now,  friend  Porthos,  now,  without  drawing  bridle  till 
you  get  to  Paris,"  whispered  he  in  his  ear;  "eat  on  horse- 
back, drink  on  horseback,  sleep  on  horseback,  but  lose  not 
minute." 

"That's  enough;  I  will  not  stop." 

"This  letter  to  Monsieur  Fouquet;  cost  what  it  may,  he 
must  have  it  to-morrow  before  midday." 

"He  shall  have  it." 

"And  do  not  forget  one  thing,  my  friend.'* 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  you  are  riding  after  your  brevet  of  due  and  peer." 

"Oh!  oh!"  said  Porthos,  with  his  eyes  sparkling;  "I  will 
do  it  in  twenty-four  hours,  in  that  case." 

"Try  to  do  so." 

"Then  let  go  the  bridle — and  forward,  Goliah!" 

Aramis  did  let  go,  not  the  bridle,  but  the  horse's  nose. 
Porthos  released  his  hand,  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse,  which 
set  off  at  a  gallop.  As  long  as  he  could  distinguish  Porthos 
through  the  darkness,  Aramis  followed  him  with  his  eyes; 
when  he  was  completely  out  of  sight,  he  re-entered  the 
yard.  Nothing  had  stirred  in  D'Artagnan's  apartment.  The 
valet  placed  on  watch  at  the  door  had  neither  seen  any  light 


476  THE   VIC0MTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

nor  heard  a..y  noise.  Aramis  closed  his  door  carefully,  seni 
the  lackey  to  bed,  and  quickly  sought  his  own;  D'Artag- 
nan  really  suspected  nothing,  therefore  thought,  he  had 
gained  everything  when  he  awoke  in  the  morning  about  half- 
past  four.  He  ran  to  the  window  in  his  shirt.  The  win- 
dow looked  out  upon  the  court.  Day  was  dawning.  The 
court. was  deserted;  the  fowls,  even,  had  not  left  their 
roosts.     Not  a  servant  appeared.     All  the  doors  were  closed. 

"Good!  perfect  calm,"  said  D'Artagnan  to  himself. 
"Never  mind;  I  am  up  tirst  in  the  house.  Let  us  dress; 
that  will  be  so  much  done." 

And  D'Artagnan  dressed  himself.  But,  this  time,  he 
endeavored  not  to  give  to  the  costume  of  M.  Agnan  that 
bourgeoise  and  almost  ecclesiastical  rigidity  he  had  affected 
before;  he  managed,  by  drawing  his  belt  tighter,  by  button- 
ing his  clothes  in  a  different  fashion,  and  by  putting  on  his 
hat  a  little  on  one  side,  to  restore  to  his  person  a  little  of 
that  military  character,  the  absence  of  which  had  surprised 
Aramis.  This  being  done,  he  made  free,  or  affected  to 
make  free,  with  his  host,  and  entered  his  chamber  without 
ceremony.  Aramis  was  asleep,  or  feigned  to  be  asleep.  A 
large  book  lay  open  upon  his  night-desk,  a  wax-light  was 
still  burning  above  its  silver  plateau.  This  was  more  than 
enough  to  prove  to  D'Artagnan  the  innocence  of  the  night 
of  the  prelate  and  the  good  intentions  of  his  waking.  The 
musketeer  did  to  the  bishop  precisely  as  the  bishop  had 
clone  to  Porthos — he  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  Evi- 
dently Aramis  pretended  to  sleep;  for  instead  of  waking 
suddenly,  he  who  slept  so  lightly,  he  required  a  repetition 
of  the  summons. 

"Ah,  ah!  is  that  you?"  said  he,  stretching  his  arms. 
"What  an  agreeable  surprise!  Ma  foi  !  Sleep  had  made  me 
forget  I  had  the  happiness  to  possess  you.  What  o'clock  is 
it?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  D'Artagnan,  a  little  embarrassed. 
'Early,  I  believe.  But,  you  know,  that  devil  of  a  habit  of 
making  with  the  day  sticks  to  me  still." 

"Do  you  wish  that  we  should  go  out  so  soon?"  asked 
Aramis.     "It  appears  to  me  to  be  very  early." 

"Just  as  you  like." 

"I  thought  we  had  agreed  not  to  get  on  horseback  before 
eight." 

"Possibly;  but  I  have  so  great  a  wish  to  see  you  that  T 
said  to  myself,  the  sooner  the  Better." 

"And  my  seven  hours'  sleep/'  said    Aramis;  "take    oars, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  477 

I  had  reckoned  upon  them,  and  what  I  lose  of  them  I  must 
make  up." 

"'But  it  seems  to  me  that,  formerly,  you  were  less  of  a 
sleeper  than  that,  dear  friend;  your  blood  was  alive,  and  you 
were  never  to  be  found  in  bed."' 

"And  it  is  exactly  on  account  of  what  you  tell  me  that  I 
am  so  fond  of  being  there  now." 

"Then  you  confess  that  it  is  not  for  the  sake  of  sleeping 
that  you  have  put  me  off  till  eight  o'clock?" 

"I  have  been  afraid  you  would  laugh  at  me  if  I  told  you 
the  truth." 

"Tell  me,  notwithstanding." 

"Well,  from  six  to  eight  I  am  accustomed  to  perform  my 
devotions." 

"Your  devotions?" 

"Yes." 

"I  did  not  believe  a  bishop's  exercises  were  so  severe." 

"A  bishop,  my  friend,  must  sacrifice  more  to  appearances 
than  a  simple  clerk." 

" Mordioux  !  Aramis,  that  is  a  word  which  reconciles  me 
with  your  greatness.  To  appearances!  That  is  a  mus- 
keteer's word,  in  good  truth.    Vive  les  apparences  !  Aramis!" 

"Instead  of  felicitating  me  upon  it,  pardon  me,  D'Artag- 
nan.  It  is  a  very  mundane  word  which  I  had  allowed  to 
escape  me." 

"Must  I  leave  you,  then?" 

"I  want  time  to  collect  my  thoughts,  my  friend,  and  for 
my  usual  prayers." 

"Well,  I  leave  you  to  them;  but  on  account  of  that  poor 
pagan,  D'Artagnan,  abridge  them  for  once,  I  beg;  I  thirst 
for  speech  of  you." 

"Well,  D'Artagnan,  I  promise  you  that  within  an  hour 
and  a  half " 

"An  hour  and  a  half  of  devotions!  Ah!  my  friend,  be  as 
reasonable  with  me  as  you  can.  Let  me  have  the  best 
bargain  possible." 

Aramis  began  to  laugh. 

"Still  agreeable,  still  young,  still  gay,"  said  he.  "You 
have  come  into  my  diocese  to  set  me  quarreling  with  grace." 

"Bah!" 

"And  you  know  well  that  I  was  never  able  to  resist  your 
seductions;  you  will  cost  me  my  salvation,  D'Artagnan." 

D'Artagnan  bit  his  lips. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  will  take  the  sin  on  my  own  head; 
favor  me  with  one  simple  Christian  sign  of  the  cross,  favor 
me  with  one  pater,  and  we  will  nart." 


478  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"Hush!"  said  Aramis,  "we  are  already  no  longer  alone 
I  hear  strangers  coming  up." 

"Well,  dismiss  them." 

"Impossible;  I  made  an  appointment  with  them  yester- 
day; it  is  the  principal  of  the  college  of  the  Jesuits  and  the 
superior  of  the  Dominicans." 

"Your  staff?     Well,  so  be  it!" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  will  go  and  wake  Porthos,  and  remain  in  his  company 
till  you  have  finished  the  conference." 

Aramis  did  not  stir,  his  brow  remained  unbent,  he  be- 
trayed himself  by  no  gesture  or  word.  "Go,"  said  he,  as 
D'Artagnan  advanced  to  the  door. 

"Apropos,  do  you  know  where  Porthos  sleeps?" 

"No;  but  I  can  inquire." 

"Take  the  corridor,  and  open  the  second  door  on  the 
left." 

"Thank  you!  au  revoir."  And  D'Artagnan  departed  in 
the  direction  pointed  out  by  Aramis. 

Ten  minutes  had  not  passed  away  when  he  came  back. 
He  found  Aramis  seated  between  the  superior  of  the  Dom- 
inicans and  the  principal  of  the  college  of  the  Jesuits,  ex- 
actly in  the  same  situation  as  he  had  found  him  formerly 
in  the  auberge  at  Crevecoeur.  This  company  did  not  at  all 
terrify  the  musketeer. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Aramis  quietly.  "You  have,  ap- 
parently, something  to  say  to  me,  my  friend." 

"It  is,"  replied  D'Artagnan,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  Aramis, 
"it  is  that  Porthos  is  not  in  his  apartment." 

"Indeed,"  said  Aramis  calmly;  "are  you  sure?" 

"Pardien!  I  came  from  his  chamber." 

"Where  can  he  be,  then?" 

"That  is  what  I  ask  you." 

"And  have  not  you  inquired  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"And  what  answer  did  you  get?" 

"That  Porthos,  often  going  out  in  a  morning,  without 
saying  anything,  was  probably  gone  out." 

"What  did  you  do,  then?" 

"I  went  to  the  stables,"  replied  D'Artagnan  carelessly. 

"What  to  do?" 

"To  see  if  Porthos  was  gone  out  on  horseback." 

"And?"  interrogated  the  bishop. 

"Well,  there  is  a  horse  missing;  stall  No.  3,  Goliah." 

All  this  dialogue,  it  may  be  easily  understood,  was  Dot 


She  vicomte  de  bragelonne.  479 

exempt  from  a  certain  affectation  on  the  part  of  the  mus- 
keteer and  a  perfect  complaisance  on  the  part  of  Aramis. 

"Oh!  I  guess  how  it  is,"  said  Aramis,  after  having  con- 
sidered for  a  moment;  "Porthos  is  gone  out  to  give  us  a 
(  surprise." 

"A  surprise?" 

"Yes;  the  canal  which  goes  from  Vannes  to  the  sea 
abounds  in  teal  and  snipe;  that  is  Porthos'  favorite  sport, 
and  he  will  bring  us  back  a  dozen  for  breakfast." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  Where  else  can  he  be?  I  would  lay  a 
wager  he  took  a  gun  with  him." 

"Well,  that  is  possible,"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"Do  one  thing,  my  friend.  Get  on  horseback  and  join 
him." 

"You  are  right,"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  will." 

"Shall  I  go  with  you?" 

"No,  thank  you;  Porthos  is  rather  remarkable;  I  will 
inquire  as  I  go  along." 

"Will  you  take  an  arquebuse?" 

"Thank  you." 

"Order  what  horse  you  like  to  be  saddled." 

"The  one  I  rode  yesterday,  on  coming  from  Belle-Isle." 

"So  be  it;  use  the  horse  as  your  own." 

Aramis  rang,  and  gave  orders  to  have  the  horse  M.  d  Ar- 
tagnan  had  chosen  saddled. 

D'Artagnan  followed  the  servant  charged  with  the  ex- 
ecution of  this  order.  When  arrived  at  the  door,  the  serv- 
ant drew  oh  one  side  to  allow  M.  d'Artagnan  to  pass,  and 
at  that  moment  he  caught  the  eye  of  his  master.  A  knit- 
ting of  the  brow  gave  the  intelligent  spy  to  understand  that 
all  should  be  given  to  D'Artagnan  he  wished.  D'Artagnan 
got  into  the  saddle,  and  Aramis  heard  the  steps  of  his  horse 
on  the  pavement.     An  instant  after,  the  servant  returned. 

"Well?"  asked  the  bishop. 

"Monseigneur,  he  has  followed  the  course  of  the  canal, 
and  is  going  toward  the  sea,"  said  the  servant. 

"Very  well!"  said  Aramis. 

In  fact,  D'Artagnan,  dismissing  all  suspicion,  hastened 
toward  the  ocean,  constantly  hoping  to  see  in  the  Landes, 
or  on  the  beach,  the  colossal  profile  of  Porthos.  He  per- 
sisted in  fancying  he  could  trace  a  horse's  steps  in  every 
puddle.  Sometimes  he  imagined  he  heard  the  report  of  a 
gun.  This  illusion  lasted  three  hours;  during  two  of  them 
he  went  forward  in  search  of  his  friepd.  in  the  last  he  re- 
turned to  the  house. 


480  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOtfNE. 

"We  must  have  crossed,"  said  he,  "and  I  shall  find  them 
waiting  for  me  at  table." 

D'Artagnan  was  mistaken.  He  no  more  found  Porthos 
at  the  palace  than  he  had  found  him  on  the  seashore. 
Aramis  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  look- 
ing very  much  concerned. 

"Did  my  people  not  find  you,  my  dear  D'Artagnan?" 
eried  he,  as  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  musketeer. 

"No;  did  you  send  any  one  after  me?" 

"I  am  deeply  concerned,  my  friend,  deeply,  to  have  in- 
duced you  to  take  such  a  useless  search;  but  about  seven 
o'clock  the  almoner  of  St.  Paterne  came  here.  He  had 
met  Du  Valon,  who  was  going  away,  and  who,  being  unwill- 
ing to  disturb  anybody  at  the  palace,  had  charged  him  to 
tell  me  that,  fearing  Monsieur  Getard  would  play  him  some 
ill  turn  in  his  absence,  he  was  going  to  take  advantage  of 
the  morning  tide  to  make  a  tour  to  Belle-Isle." 

"But  tell  me;  Goliah  has  not  crossed  the  four  leagues  of 
the  sea,  I  should  think." 

"There  are  full  six,"  said  Aramis. 

"That  makes  it  less  probable  still." 

"Therefore,  my  friend,"  said  Aramis,  with  one  of  his 
most  bland  smiles,  "Goliah  is  in  the  stable,  well  pleased,  I 
will  answer  for  it,  that  Porthos  is  no  longer  on  his  back." 
In  fact,  the  horse  had  been  brought  back  from  the  relay  by 
the  direction  of  the  prelate,  from  whom  no  detail  escaped. 
D'Artagnan  appeared  as  well  satisfied  as  possible  with  the 
explanation.  He  entered  upon  a  part  of  dissimulation 
which  agreed  perfectly  with  the  suspicions  that  arose  more 
and  more  strongly  in  his  mind.  He  breakfasted  between 
the  Jesuit  and  Aramis,  having  the  Dominican  in  front  of 
him,  and  smiling  particularly  at  the  Dominican,  whose  jolly 
fat  face  pleased  him  much.  The  repast  was  long  and 
sumptuous;  excellent  Spanish  wine,  fine  Morbitran  oysters, 
exquisite  fish  from  the  mouth  of  the  Loire,  enormous  prawns 
from  Paimbceuf,  and  delicious  game  from  the  moors,  con- 
stituted the  principal  part  of  it.  D'Artagnan  eat  much 
and  drank  but  little.  Aramis  drank  nothing,  unless  it  was 
water.     After  the  repast: 

"You  offered  me  an  arquebuse,"  said  D'Artagnan, 

"I  did."  * 

"Lend  it  me,  then." 

"Are  you  going  shooting?1  v 

"While  waiting  for  Porthos,  it  is  the  best  thing  1  can  do, 
I  think/' 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  481 

"Take  which  you  like  from  the  trophy." 

''Will  you  not  come  with  me?" 

"I  would  with  great  pleasure;  but,  alas!  my  friend,  sport- 
ing is  forbidden  to  bishops." 

"Ah!"  said  D'Artagnan,  "I  did  not  know  that." 

"Besides,"  continued  Aramis,  "I  shall  be  busy  till  mid- 
day." 

"I  shall  go  alone  then?"  said  D'Artagnan. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  you  must;  but  come  back  to  dinner." 

iiPardieu  1  the  eating  at  your  house  is  too  good  to  make 
me  think  of  not  coming  back.  And  thereupon  D'Artagnan 
quitted  his  host,  bowed  to  the  guests,  and  took  his  arque- 
buse;  but,  instead  of  shooting,  went  straight  to  the  little 
port  of  Vannes.  He  looked  in  vain  to  observe  if  anybody 
saw  him;  he  could  discern  neither  thing  nor  person.  He 
engaged  a  little  fishing-boat  for  twenty-five  livres,  and  set 
off  at  half-past  eleven,  convinced  that  he  had  not  been  fol- 
lowed; and  that  was  true,  he  had  not  been  followed;  only 
a  Jesuit  brother,  placed  in  the  top  of  the  steeple  of  his 
church,  had  not,  since  the  morning,  by  the  help  of  an  excel- 
lent glass,  lost  sight  of  one  of  his  steps.  At  three-quarters 
past  eleven  Aramis  was  informed  that  D'Artagnan  was 
sailing  toward  Belle-Isle.  The  voyage  was  rapid;  a  good 
north-northeast  wind  drove  him  toward  the  isle.  As  he 
approached,  his  eves  were  constantly  fixed  upon  the  coast. 
He  looked  to  see  if,  upon  the  shore  or  upon  the  fortifica- 
tions, the  brilliant  dress  and  vast  stature  of  Porthos  should 
stand  out  against  a  slightly  clouded  sky;  but  his  search  was 
in  vain.  He  landed  without  having  seen  anything,  and 
learned  from  the  first  soldier  interrogated  by  him  that  M. 
du  Valon  was  not  yet  returned  from  Tannes.  Then,  with- 
out losing  an  instant,  D'Artagnan  ordered  his  little  bark  to 
put  its  head  toward  Sarzeau.  We  know  that  the  wind 
ckanges  with  the  different  hours  of  the  day.  The  Avind  had 
gone  round  from  the  north-northeast  to  the  southeast;  the 
wind,  then,  was  almost  as  good  for  the  return  to  Sarzeau  as 
it  had  been  for  the  voyage  to  Belle-Isle.  In  three  hours 
D'Artagnan  had  touched  the  continent;  two  hours  more 
sufficed  for  his  ride  to  Vannes.  In  spite  of  the  rapidity  of 
his  passage,  what  D'Artagnan  endured  of  impatience  and 
anger  during  that  short  passage,  the  deck  alone  of  the  ves- 
sel, upon  which  he  stamped  backward  and  forward  for  three 
hours,  could  relate  to  history.  He  made  but  one  bound 
from  the  quay  whereon  he  landed  to  the  episcopal  palace. 
He  thought  to  terrify  Aramis  by  the  promptitude  of  his 


482  THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELOKNE. 

return;  he  wished  to  reproach  him  with  his  duplicity,  and 
yet  with  reserve,  but  with  sufficient  spirit,  nevertheless,  to 
make  him  feel  all  the  consequences  of  it,  and  force  from 
him  a  part  of  his  secret.  He  hoped,  in  short — thanks  to 
that  heat  of  expression  which  is  to  mysteries  what  the 
charge  with  the  bayonet  is  to  redoubts — to  bring  the  mys- 
terious Aramis  to  some  manifestation  or  other.  But  he 
found,  in  the  vestibule  of  the  palace,  the  valet  de  chambre, 
who  closed  the  passage,  while  smiling  upon  him  with  a 
stupid  air. 

"Monseigneur?"  cried  D'Artagnan,  endeavoring  to  put 
him  aside  with  his  hand.  Moved  for  an  instant,  the  valet 
resumed  his  station. 

"Monseigneur?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  to  be  sure;  do  you  know  me,  imbecile?" 

"Yes,  you  are  the  Chevalier  d'Artagnan." 

"Then  let  me  pass." 

"It  is  of  no  use." 

"Why  of  no  use?" 

"Because  his  greatness  is  not  at  home." 

'"What!  his  greatness  is  not  at  home?  Where  is  he, 
then?" 

"Gone." 

"Gone?" 

"Yes." 
•  "Whither?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  perhaps  he  tells  Monsieur  le 
Chevalier." 

"And  how?  where?  in  what  fashion?" 

"In  this  letter,  which  he  gave  me  for  Monsieur  le  Cheva- 
lier." And  the  valet  de  chambre  drew  a  letter  from  his 
pocket. 

"Give  it  me,  then,  you  rascal,"  said  D'Artagnan, 
snatching  it  from  his  hand.  "Oh,  yes,"  continued  he,  at 
the  first  line,  "yes,  I  understand;"  and  he  read: 

"Dear  Friend:  An  affair  of  the  most  urgent  nature 
calls  me  to  a  distant  parish  of  my  diocese.  I  hoped  to  see 
you  again  before  I  set  out;  but  I  lose  that  hope  in  thinking 
that  you  are  going,  no  doubt,  to  remain  two  or  three  days 
at  Belle-Isle  with  our  dear  Porthos.  Amuse  yourself  as 
well  as  you  can;  but  do  not  attempt  to  hold  out  against  him 
at  table.  This  is  a  counsel  I  might  have  given  even  u) 
Athos.  in  his  most  brilliant  and  best  days.  Adieu,  de»r 
iriend;  believe  that  I  regret  greatly  not  having  better,  and 
for  a  longer  time,  profited  by  vour  excellent  company." 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRA.GELONNE.  483 

"Mordioux!"  cried  D'Artagnan.  "I  am  tricked.  Ah! 
blockhead,  brute,  triple  fool  that  I  am!  But  let  them 
laugh  who  laugh  last.  Oh,  duped,  duped,  like  a  monkey 
cheated  with  an  empty  nutshell!"  And  with  a  hearty  blow 
bestowed  upon  the  nose  of  the  still  grinning  valet  de  cliam- 
bre,  he  made  all  haste  out  of  the  episcopal  palace.  Furet, 
however  good  a  trotter,  was  not  equal  to  present  circum- 
stances. D'Artagnan,  therefore,  took  the  post,  and  chose 
a  horse,  which  he  made  to  understand,  with  good  spurs  and 
a  light  hand,  that  stags  are  not  the  most  agile  creatures  in 
uature. 


CHAPTER    LXXIV. 

IN  WHICH  D'ARTAGNAN  MAKES  ALL  SPEED,  PORTHOS  SNORES, 
AND  ARAMIS    COUNSELS. 

From  thirty  to  thirty-five  hours  after  the  events  we  have 
just  related,  as  M.  Fouquet,  according  to  his  custom,  hav- 
ing interdicted  his  door,  was  working  in  the  cabinet  of  his 
house  at  St.  Mande,  with  which  we  are  already  acquainted, 
a  carriage,  drawn  by  four  horses  streaming  with  sweat,  en- 
tered the  court  at  full  gallop.  This  carriage  was  probably 
expected;  for  three  or  four  lackeys  hastened  to  the  door, 
which  they  opened.  While  M.  Fouquet  rose  from  his 
bureau  and  ran  to  the  window,  a  man  got  painfully  out  of 
the  carriage,  descending  with  difficulty  the  three  steps  of 
the  door,  leaning  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  lackeys.  He 
had  scarcely  uttered  his  name,  when  the  valet  upon  whom 
he  was  not  leaning  sprang  up  the  perron,  and  disappeared 
in  the  vestibule.  This  man  went  to  inform  his  master;  but 
he  had  no  occasion  to  knock  at  the  door;  Fouquet  was 
standing  on  the  threshold. 

"Monseigneur,  the  Bishop  of  Vannes,"  said  he. 

"Very  well!"  replied  his  master. 

Then,  leaning  over  the  baluster  of  the  staircase,  of  which 
Aramis  was  beginning  to  ascend  the  first  steps: 

"You,  dear  friend!"  said  he;  "you,  so  soon!" 

"Yes;  I,  myself,  monsieur;  but  bruised,  battered,  as  you 
see." 

"Oh!  my  poor  dear  friend,"  said  Fouquet,  presenting 
him  his  arm,  upon  which  Aramis  leaned,  while  the  servants 
drew  back  with  respect. 


484  THE   VICOMTE   HE   BRAOELONNE.  c 

"Bah!"  replied  Aram  is,  "it  is  nothing,  since  I  am  here; 
the  principal  thing  was  that  I  should  get  here,  and  here  I 
am." 

"Speak  quickly,"  said  Fouquet,  closing  the  door  of  the 
cabinet  behind  Aramis  and  himself. 

"Are  we  alone?" 

"Yes,  perfectly." 

"No  one  can  listen  to  us?  no  one  can  hear  us?" 

"Be  satisfied;  nobody." 

"Is  Monsieur  du  Valon  arrived?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  have  received  my  letter?" 

"Yes.  The  affair  is  serious,  apparently,  since  it  necessi- 
tates your  presence  in  Paris,  at  a  moment  when  your  pres- 
ence was  so  urgent  elsewhere." 

"You  are  right;  it  cannot  be  more  serious." 

"Thank  you!  thank  you!  What  is  it  about?  But,  for 
God's  sake!  before  anything  else,  take  time  to  breathe, 
dear  friend.     You  are  so  pale,  you  frighten  me." 

"I  am  really  in  great  pain.  But,  for  Heaven's  sake, 
think  nothing  about  me.  Did  Monsieur  du  Valon  tell  you 
nothing  when  he  delivered  the  letter  to  you?" 

"No.  I  heard  a  great  noise;  I  went  to  the  window;  I 
saw  at  the  feet  of  the  perron  a  sort  of  horseman  of  marble; 
I  went  down,  he  held  the  letter  out  to  me,  and  his  horse 
fell  down  dead." 

""But  he?" 

"He  fell  with  the  horse;  he  was  lifted  up,  and  carried  to 
an  apartment.  Having  read  the  letter,  I  went  up  to  him, 
in  hopes  of  obtaining  more  ample  information;  but  he  was 
asleep,  and  after  such  a  fashion  that  it  was  impossible  to 
wake  him.  I  took  pity  on  him;  I  gave  orders  that  his 
boots  should  be  taken  off,  and  that  he  should  be  left  quite 
undisturbed." 

"So  far  well;  now,  this  is  the  question  in  hand,  mon- 
seigneur.  You  have  seen  Monsieur  d'Artagnan  in  Paris, 
have  you  not?" 

"Certes,  and  think  him  a  man  of  intelligence,  and  even  a 
man  of  heart,  although  he  did  bring  about  the  death  of  our 
dear  friends  Lyodot  and  D'Eymeris." 

"Alas!  yes,  I  heard  of  that.  At  Tours  I  met  the  courier 
who  was  bringing  me  the  letter  from  Gourville  and  the  dis- 
patches from  Pellisson.  Have  you  seriously  reflected  on 
that  event,  monsieur?" 

"Yes" 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOSHSTE.  485 

"And  in  it  you  perceived  a  direct  attack  upon  your 
sovereignty?" 

"And  do  you  believe  it  to  ba  so?'' 

"Oh,  yes,  I  think  so." 

"Well,  I  must  confess,  that  sad  idea  occurred  to  me  like- 
wise." 

"Do  not  blind  yourself,  monsieur,  in  the  name  of  Heaven! 
Listen  attentively  to  me.     I  return  to  D'Artagnan." 

"I  am  all  attention." 

"Under  what  circumstances  did  you  see  him?" 

"He  came  here  for  monev." 

"With  what  kind  of  order?" 

"With  an  order  from  the  king." 

"Direct?" 

"Signed  by  his  majesty." 

"There,  then!  Well,  D'Artagnan  has  been  to  Belle-Isle; 
he  was  disguised;  he  came  in  the  character  of  some  sort  of 
an  intendant,  charged  by  his  master  to  purchase  salt  mines. 
Now,  D'Artagnan  has  no  other  master  but  the  king;  he 
came,  then,  sent  by  the  king.     He  saw  Porthos." 

"Who  is  Porthos?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I  made  a  mistake.  He  saw  Mon- 
sieur du  Valon  at  Belle-Isle;  and  he  knows,  as  well  as  you 
and  I  do,  that  Belle-Isle  is  fortified." 

"And  you  think  that  the  king  sent  him  there?"  said  Fe  v 
quet  pensively. 

"I  certainly  do." 

"And  D'Artagnan,  in  the  hands  of  the  king,  is  a  danger- 
ous instrument?" 

"The  most  dangerous  imaginable." 

"Then  I  formed  a  correct  opinion  of  him  at  the  first 
glance." 

"How  so?" 

"I  wished  to  attach  him  to  myself." 

"If  you  judged  him  to  be  the  bravest,  the  most  acute, 
.and  the  most  adroit  man  in  France,  you  have  judged 
correctly." 

"He  must  be  had,  then,  at  any  price." 

"D'Artagnan?" 

"Is  not  that  your  opinion?" 

"It  may  be  my  opinion,  but  you  will  never  have  him." 

"Why?" 

"Because  we  have  allowed  the  time  to  go  by.  He  was 
dissatisfied  with  the  court,  we  should  have  profited  by  that; 
since  that,  he  has  passed  into  England;  there  he  powerfully 


486  THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONXE. 

assisted  in  the  restoration,  there  he  gained  a  fortune,  and, 
after  all,  he  returned  to  the  service  of  the  king.  Well,  ii 
he  has  returned  to  the  service  of  the  king,  it  is  because  he 
has  been  well  paid  in  that  service." 

"We  will  pay  him  still  better,  that  is  all." 

"Oh,  monsieur!  excuse  me;  D'Artagnan  has  a  high  sense 
of  his  word,  and  where  that  word  is  once  engaged,  that 
word  remains  where  it  is." 

"What  do  you  conclude,  then?"  said  Fouquet,  with  great 
inquietude. 

"At  present,  the  principal  thing  is  to  parry  a  dangerous 
blow." 

"And  how  is  it  to  be  parried?" 

"Listen." 

"But  D'Artagnan  will  come  and  render  an  account  to  the 
king  of  his  mission." 

"Oh,  we  have  time  enough  to  think  about  that." 

"How  so?     You  are  much  in  advance  of  him,  I  presume?" 

"Nearly  ten  hours." 

"Well,  in  ten  hours " 

Aramis  shook  his  pale  head.  "Look  at  these  clouds 
which  flit  across  the  heavens,  at  these  swallows  which  cut 
the  air,  D'Artagnan  moves  more  quickly  than  the  clouds 
or  the  birds;  D'Artagnan  is  the  wind  which  carries  them." 

"A  strange  man!" 

"I  tell  you,  he  is  something  superhuman,  monsieur.  He 
is  of  my  age,  and  I  have  known  him  these  five-and-thirty 
years." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  listen  to  my  calculation,  monsieur.  I  sent  Mon- 
sieur du  Valon  off  to  you  two  hours  after  midnight.  Mon- 
sieur du  Valon  was  eight  hours  in  advance  of  me;  when  did 
Monsieur  du  Valon  arrive?" 

"About  four  hours  ago." 

"You  see,  then,  that  I  gained  four  upon  him;  and  yet 
Porthos  is  a  stanch  horseman,  and  he  has  left  on  the  road 
eight  dead  horses,  whose  bodies  I  came  to  successively.  1 
rode  post  fifty  leagues;  but  I  have  the  gout,  the  gravel,  and 
what  else  I  know  not;  so  that  fatigue  kills  me.  I  was 
obliged  to  dismount  at  Tours;  since  that,  rolling  along  in  a 
carriage,  half-dead,  sometimes  overturned,  often  drawn 
upon  the  sides,  and  sometimes  on  the  back  of  the  carriage, 
always  with  four  spirited  horses  at  full  gallop,  I  have 
arrived — arrived,  gaining  four  hours  upon  Porthos;  but, 
see  you,  D'Artagnan  does  not  weigh  three  hundred-weight, 


THE   VICOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE.  487 

as  Porthos  does;  D'Artugnan  has  not  the  gout  and  gravel, 
as  I  have;  he  is  not  a  horseman,  he  is  a  centaur.  D'Artag- 
nan, see  you,  set  out- for  Belle-  isle  when  I  set  out  for  Paris; 
and  D'Artagnan,  notwithstanding  my  ten  hours'  advance, 
D'Artagnan  will  arrive  within  two  hours  after  me." 

"But,  then,  accidents?" 

"He  never  meets  with  any  accidents." 

"Horses  may  fail  him." 

"He  will  run  as  fast  as  a  horse." 

"Good  God!  what  a  man!" 

"Yes,  he  is  a  man  whom  I  love  and  admire.  I  love  him 
because  he  is  good,  great,  and  loyal;  I  admire  him  because 
he  represents  with  me  the  culminating:  point  of  human 
powers;  but,  while  loving  and  admiring  him,  I  fear  him, 
and  am  on  my  guard  against  him.  Now,  then,  I  resume, 
monsieur;  in  two  hours  D'Artagnan  will  be  here;  be  before 
hand  with  him.  Go  to  the  Louvre,  and  see  the  king  before 
he  sees  D'Artagnan." 

"What  shall  I  say  to  the  king?" 

"Nothing;  give  him  Belle-Isle." 

"Oh!  Monsieur  d'Herblay!  Monsieur  d'Herblay!"  cried 
Fouqr>et,  "what  projects  crushed  all  at  once!" 

"After  one  project  that  has  failed  there  i«  always  another 
project  which  may  lead  to  good;  we  should  never  despair. 
Go,  monsieur,  and  go  quickly." 

"But  that  garrison,  so  carefully  chosen,  the  king  will 
change  it  directly." 

"That  garrison,  monsieur,  was  the  king'b  when  it  entered 
Belle-Isle;  it  is  yours  now;  it  will  be  the  same  wifh  all  gar- 
risons after  a  fortnight's  occupation.  Let  things  go  on, 
monsieur.  Do  you  see  any  inconvenience  in  having  an 
army  at  the  end  of.  a  year,  instead  of  two  regiments?  Do 
you  not  see  that  your  garrison  of  to-day  will  make  you 
partisans  at  La  Eochelle,  Nantes,  Bordeaux,  Toulouse — in 
short,  wherever  they  may  be  sen4  to?  Go  to  the  king. 
monsieur,  go;  time  flies,  and  D'Artagnan,  while  we  are  los- 
ing time,  is  flying  like  an  arrow  along  the  highroad." 

"Monsieur  d'Herblay,  you  know  that  each  word  from  you 
is  a  germ  which  fructifies  in  my  thoughts.  1  will  go  to 
the  Louvre." 

"Instantly,  will  you  not?" 

"I  only  ask  time  tc  change  my  dress." 

"Eemember  that  D  Artagnan  has  no  need  to  pass  through 
St.  Mande,  but  will  go  straight  to  the  Louvre;  that  is  cut 
ting  off  an  hour  from  the  advance  which  remains  to  us." 


488  THE    VICOMTE    DE   BKAOELOXNE. 

"D'Artagnan  may  have  everything  except  my  English 
horse?,  i  shall  be  at  the  Louvre  in  twenty-five  minutes.*' 
And  without  losing  a  second,  Fouquet  gave  orders  for  his 
departure. 

Aramis  had  only  time  to  say  to  him,  "Return  as  quickly 
as  you  go;  for  I  shall  await  you  impatiently.'' 

Five  minutes  after,  the  surintendant  was  Hying  along  the 
road  to  Paris.  During  this  time  Aramis  desired  to  be 
shown  the  chamber  in  which  Porthos  was  sleeping.  At  the 
door  of  Fouquet's  cabinet  he  was  folded  in  the  arms  of  Pel- 
lisson, who  had  just  heard  of  his  arrival,  and  had  left  his 
office  to  see  him.  Aramis  received,  with  that  friendly  dig- 
nity which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  assume,  those  caresses 
as  respectful  as  earnest;  but,  all  at  once  stopping  on  the 
knding-place,  ''What  is  that  I  hear  up  yonder?'"' 

"There  was,  in  fact,  a  hoarse,  growling  kind  of  noise, 
like  the  roar  of  a  hungry  tiger  or  an  impatient  lion.  "Oh, 
that  is  nothing,"  said  Pellisson,  smiling. 

"Well;  but " 

"It  is  Monsieur  du  Valon  snoring." 

"Ah!  true,"  said  Aramis;  "I  had  forgotten.     No  one  but 
he  is  capable  of  making  such  a  noise.     Allow  me,  Pellisson, 
to  inquire  if  he  wants  anything." 
-"And  you  will  permit  me  to  accompany  you?" 

"Oh,  certainly;"  and  both  entered  the  chamber.  Porthos 
was  stretched  upon  the  bed;  his  face  was  violet  rather  than 
red;  his  eyes  were  swelled;  his  mouth  was  w7ide  open.  The 
roaring  which  escaped  from  the  deep  cavities  of  his  chest 
made  the  glass  of  the  windows  vibrate.  To  those  developed 
and  clearly  defined  muscles  starting  from  his  face,  to  his 
hair  matted  with  sw'eat,  to  the  energetic  heaving  of  his  chin 
and  shoulders,  it  was  impossible  to  refuse  a  certain  degree 
of  admiration.  Strength  carried  to  this  point  is  almost 
divinity.  The  Herculean  legs  and  feet  of  Porthos  had,  by 
swelling,  burst  his  leather  boots;  all  the  strength  of  his 
enormous  body  was  converted  into  the  rigidity  of  stone. 
Porthos  moved  no  more  than  does  the  giant  of  granite 
which  reclines  upon  the  plains  of  Agrigentum.  According 
to  Pellisson's  orders,  his  boots  had  been  cut  off,  for  no 
human  power  could  have  pulled  them  off.  Four  lackeys 
had  tried  in  vain,  pulling  at  them  as  they  would  have  pulled 
capstans;  and  yet  all  this  did  not  awaken  him.  They  had 
taken  off  his  boots  in  fragments,  and  his  legs  had  fallen 
back  upon  the  bed.  They  then  cut  off  the  rest  of  his 
clothes,  carried  him  to  a  bath,  in  which  they  let  him  lie 


THE   VICOMTE    DE    BRAGELONNE.  489 

a  considerable  time.  They  then  put  on  him  clean  linen, 
and  placed  him  in  a  well-warmed  bed — the  whole  with 
efforts  and  pains  which  might  have  roused  a  dead  man,  but 
which  did  not  make  Porthos  open  an  eye,  or  interrupt  for  a 
second  the  formidable  organ  of  his  snoring.  Aramis  wished, 
on  his  part,  with  a  dry,  nervous  nature,  armed  with  extra- 
ordinary courage,  to  outbrave  fatigue,  and  employ  himself 
with  Gourville  and  Pellisson,  but  he  fainted  in  the  chair,  iu 
which  he  had  persisted  to  remain.  He  was  carried  into  the 
adjoining  room,  where  the  repose  cf  bed  soon  calmed  his 
throbbing  brain. 


CHAPTER   L'XXV. 

IN   WHICH  MONSIEUR  FOUQUET  ACTS. 

In  the  meantime  Fouquet  was  hastening  to  the  Louvre 
at  the  best  speed  of  his  English  horses.  The  king  was  at 
work  with  Colbert.  All  at  once  the  king  became  thought- 
ful. The  two  sentences  of  death  he  had  signed  on  mount- 
ing his  throne  sometimes  recurred  to  his  memory;  they 
were  two  black  spots  which  he  saw  with  his  eyes  open;  two 
spots  of  blood  which  he  saw  when  his  eyes  were  closed. 
"Monsieur,"  said  he,  rather  sharply,  to  the  intendant,  "it 
sometimes  seems  to  me  that  those  two  men  you  made  me 
condemn  were  not  very  great  culprits." 

"Sire,  they  were  picked  out  from  the  herd  of  the  farmers 
of  the  financiers,  which  wanted  decimating." 

"Picked  out  by  whom?" 

"By  necesity,  sire,"  replied  Colbert  coldly. 

"Necessity!  a  great  word,"  murmured  the  young  king. 

iCA  great  goddess,  sire." 

"They  were  devoted  friends  of  the  surintendant,  were 
they  not?" 

"Yes,  sire;  friends  who  would  have  given  their  lives  to 
Monsieur  .Fouquet." 

"They  have  given  them,  monsieur,"  said  the  king. 

"That  is  true;  but  uselessly,  by  good  luck,  which  was  not 
their  intention." 

"How  much  money  had  these  men  fraudulently  ob- 
tained?" 

"Ten  millions,  perhaps:  of  «'hich  six  have  been  con- 
fiscated." 


490  THE   VTCOMTE    DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"And  is  that  money  in  my  coffers?"  said  the  king,  with  a 
certain  air  of  repugnance. 

"It  is  there,  sire;  but  this  confiscation,  while  threatening 
Monsieur  Fouquet,  has  not  touched  him." 

"You  conclude,  then,  Monsieur  Colbert " 

"That  if  Monsieur  Fouquet  has  raised  against  your 
majesty  a  troop  of  factious  rioters  to  extricate  his  friends 
from  punishment,  he  will  raise  an  army  when  he  shall  have 
to  extricate  himself  from  punishment." 

The  king  darted  at  his  confidant  one  of  those  looks  which 
resemble  the  red  fire  of  a  stormy  flash  of  lightning,  one  of 
chose  looks  which  illuminate  the  darkness  of  the  deepest 
consciences.  "I  am  astonished,"  said  he,  "that,  thinking 
such  things  of  Monsieur  Fouquet,  you  did  not  come  to  give 
me  your  counsels  thereupon." 

"Counsels  upon  what,  sire?" 

"Tell  me,  in  the  first  place,  clearly  and  precisely,  what 
you  think,  Monsieur  Colbert." 

"Upon  what  subject,  sire?" 

"Upon  the  conduct  of  Monsieur  Fouquet." 

"I  think,  sire,  that  Monsieur  Fouquet,  not  satisfied  Avith 
attracting  all  the  money  to  himself,  as  Monsieur  Mazarin 
did,  and  by  that  means  depriving  your  majesty  of  one  part 
of  your  power,  still  wishes  to  attract  to  himself  all  the 
friends  of  easy  life  and  pleasures — of  what  idlers  call  poetry, 
and  politicians  corruption.  I  think  that,  by  holding  the 
subjects  of  your  majesty  in  pay,  he  trespasses  upon  the 
royal  prerogative,  and  cannot,  if  this  continues  so,  be  long 
in  placing  your  majesty  among  the  weak  and  obscure." 

"How  would  you  qualify  all  these  projects,  Monsieur 
Colbert?" 

"The  projects  of  Monsieur  Fouquet,  sire?" 

"Yes." 

"They  are  called  crimes  of  Use  majeste." 

"And  what  is  done  to  criminals  guilty  of  Use  majestS?" 

"They  are  arrested,  tried,  and  punished." 

"You  are  quite  sure  that  Monsieur  Fouquet  has  conceived 
the  idea  of  the  crime  you  impute  to  him?" 

"I  can  say  more,  sire;  there  is  even  a  commencement  of 
the  execution  of  it." 

"Well,  then,  I  return  to  that  which  I  was  saying,  Mon- 
sieur Colbert." 

"And  you  were  saying,  sire?" 

"Give  me  counsel." 

"Pardon  me,  sire;  but,  in  the  first  place,  I  have  some- 
thing to  a,^  "  ''  ~~ 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELOXNB.  491 

"Say -what?" 

"An  evident,  palpable,  material  proof  of  treason." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"I  have  just  learned  that  Monsieur  Fouquet  is  fortifying 
Belle-Isle." 

"Ah,  indeed!" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Perfectly.  Do  you  know,  sire,  what  soldiers  there  are 
at  Belle-Isle?" 

"No,  ma  foi  !    D o  y ou  ?' * 

"I  am  ignorant  likewise,  sire;  I  should  therefore  propose 
to  your  majesty  to  send  somebody  to  Belle-Isle." 

"Who?" 

"Me,  for  instance." 

"And  what  would  you  do  at  Belle-Isle?" 

"Inform  myself  whether,  after  the  example  of  the  ancient 
feudal  lords,  Monsieur  Fouquet  was  embattlementing  his 
walls." 

"And  with  what  purpose  could  he  do  that?" 

"With  the  purpose  of  defending  himself  some  day  against 
his  king." 

"But,  if  it  be  thus,  Monsieur  Colbert,"  said  Louis,  "we 
must  immediately  do  as  you  say.  Monsieur  Fouquet  must 
be  arrested." 

"That  is  impossible." 

"I  thought  I  had  already  told  you,  monsieur,  that  I  sup- 
pressed that  word  in  my  service." 

"The  service  of  your  majesty  cannot  prevent  Monsieur 
Fouquet  from  being  surintendant-general." 

"Well?" 

"That,  in  consequence  of  holding  that  post,  he  has  for 
him  all  the  parliament,  as  he  has  all  the  army  by  his  larges- 
ses, all  literature  by  his  favors,  and  all  the  noblesse  by  his 
presents." 

"That  is  to  say,  then,  that  I  can  do  nothing  against  Mon- 
sieur Fouquet?" 

"Absolutely  nothing — at  least,  at  present,  sire." 

"You  are  a  sterile  counselor,  Monsieur  Colbert." 

"Oh,  no,  sire;  for  I  will  not  confine  myself  to  pointing 
out  the  peril  to  your  majesty." 

"Come,  then,  where  shall  we  begin  to  undermine  the 
Colossus;  let  Us  see;"  and  his  majesty  began  to  laugh  with 
bitterness. 

"He  has  grown  great  by  money;  kill  him  by  monev, 
niro," 


492  THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

"It'  I  were  to  deprive  him  of  his  charge?" 

"A  bad  means,  sire.'* 

"The  good— the  good,  then  V*    . 

"Ruin  him,  sire;  that  is  the  way." 

"But  how?'* 

"Occasions  will  not  be  wanting,  take  advantage  of  all 
occasions." 

"Point  them  out  to  me." 

"Here  is  one  at  once.  His  Royal  Highness  Monsieur  is 
about  to  be  married;  his  nuptials  must  be  magnificent. 
That  is  a  good  occasion  for  your  majesty  to  demand  a  mil- 
Sion  of  Monsieur  Fouquet.  Monsieur  Fouquet,  who  pays 
twenty  thousand  livres  down,  when  he  need  not  pay  more 
than  five  thousand,  will  easily  find  that  million  when  your 
majesty  shall  demand  it." 

"That  is  all  very  well;  I  will  demand  it,"  said  Louis. 

"If  your  majesty  will  sign  the  ordonnance,  I  will  have 
the  money  taken  myself."  And  Colbert  pushed  a  paper 
before  the  king,  and  presented  a  pen  to  him. 

At  that  moment  the  usher  opened  the  door  and  announced 
Monsieur  le  Surintendant.  Louis  turned  pale.  Colbert 
let  the  pen  fall,  and  drew  back  from  the  king,  over  whom 
he  extended  his  black  wings  of  a  bad  angel.  The  surin- 
tendant made  his  entrance  like  a  man  of  the  court,  to  whom 
a  single  glance  was  sufficient  to  make  him  appreciate  his 
situation.  That  situation  was  not  very  encouraging  for 
Fouquet,  whafever  might  be  the  consciousness  of  his 
strength.  The  small  black  eye  of  Colbert,  dilated  by  envy, 
and  the  limpid  eve  of  Louis  XIV.,  inflamed  by  anger,  sig- 
naled a  pressing  danger.  Courtiers  are,  with  regard  to 
court  rumors,  like  old  soldiers,  who  distinguish  through 
blasts  of  wind  and  moaning  of  leaves  the  sound  of  the  dis- 
tant step  of  an  armed  troop.  They  can,  after  having  lis- 
tened,  tell  pretty  nearly  how  many  men  are  marching,  how 
many  arms  resound,  how  many  cannons  roll.  Fouquet  had, 
then,  only  to  interrogate  the  silence  which  his  arrival  had 
produced;  he  found  it  big  Avith  menacing  revelations.  The 
king  allowed  him  quite  time  enough  to  advance  as  far  as 
the  middle  of  the  chamber.  His  adolescent  modesty  com- 
manded this  forbearance  of  the  moment.  Fouquet  boldly 
seized  the  opportunty. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "I  was  impatient  to  see  vour  majesty.'' 

"What  for?"  asked  Louis. 

"To  announce  some  good  news  to  you." 

Colbert,  in   grandeur  of  person,  legs   lameness  oi  heart, 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  493 

resembled  Fouquet  in  many  points.  The  same  penetration, 
the  same  knowledge  of  men.  Moreover,  that  great  power 
of  contraction  which  gives  to  hypocrites  time  to  reflect, 
and  gather  themselves  up  to  take  a  spring.  He  guessed 
that  Fouquet  was  going  to  meet  the  blow  he  was  about  to 
deal  him.     His  eyes  sparkled. 

"What  news?"  asked  the  king.  Fouquet  placed  a  roll  of 
papers  on  the  table. 

"Let  your  majesty  have  the  goodness  to  cast  your  eyes 
over  this  work,"  said  he.  The  king  slowly  unfolded  the 
paper. 

"Plans?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  sire." 

"And  what  are  these  plans?" 

"A  new  fortification,  sire." 

"Ah,  ah!"  said  the  king,  "you  amuse  yourself  with 
tactics  and  strategies  then,  Monsieur  Fouquet?" 

"I  occupy  myself  with  everything  that  may  be  useful  to 
the  reign  of  your  majesty,"  replied  Fouquet. 

"Beautiful  descriptions!"  said  the  king,  looking  at  the 
design. 

"Your  majesty  comprehends,  without  doubt,"  said  Fou- 
quet, bending  over  the  paper;  "here  is  the  circle  of  the 
walls,  here  are  the  forts,  there  the  advanced  works." 

"And  what  do  I  see  here,  monsieur?" 

"The  sea." 

"The  sea  all  round?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"And  what  is,  then,  this  place  of  which  you  show  me  the 
plans?" 

"Sire,  it  is  Belle-Isle-en-Mer,"  replied  Fouquet,  with 
simplicity. 

At  this  word,  at  this  name,  Colbert  made  so  marked  a 
movement  that  the  king  turned  round  to  enforce  the  neces- 
sity for  reserve.  Fouquet  did  not  appear  to  be  the  least  in 
the  world  concerned  by  the  movement  of  Colbert  or  the 
king's  signal. 

"Monsieur,"  continued  Louis,  "you  have  then  fortified 
Belle-Isle?" 

"Yes,  sire;  and  I  have  brought  the  plan  and  the  accounts 
to  3'our  majesty,"  replied  Fouquet;  "I  have  expended  six- 
teen hundred  thousand  livres  in  this  operation." 

"What  to  do?"  replied  Louis  coldly,  having  taken  the 
initiative  from  a  malicious  look  of  the  intendant. 


494  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRA«ELONNE. 

"For  an  aim  very  easy  to  seize,"  replied  Fouquet.  "Yovi 
majesty  was  on  cool  terms  with  Great  Britain. 

"Yes;  but  since  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II.  I 
have  formed  an  alliance  with  him." 

"A  month  since,  sire,  your  majesty  has  truly  said;  but  \ 
is  more  than  six  months  since  the  fortifications  of  BeP'*- 
lsle  have  been  begun." 

"Then  they  have  become  useless." 

"Sire,  fortifications  are  never  useless.  I  fortified  Belle* 
Isle  against  Messieurs  Monk  and  Lambert,  and  all  those 
London  citizens  who  were  playing  at  soldiers.  Belle-Isle 
will  be  ready  fortified  against  the  Dutch,  against  whom 
either  England  or  your  majesty  cannot  fail  to  make  war." 

The  king  was  again  silent,  and  looked  under  at  Colbert. 

"Belle-Isle,  I  believe,"  added  Louis,  "is  yours,  Monsieui 
Fouquet?" 

"No,  sire." 

"Whose  then?" 

"Your  majesty's." 

Colbert  was  seized  with  as  much  terror  as  if  a  gulf  had 
opened  beneath  his  feet.  Louis  started  with  admiration, 
either  at  the  genius  or  the  devotion  of  Fouquet. 

"Explain  yourself,  monsieur,"  said  he. 

"Nothing  more  easy,  sire.  Belle-Isle  is  one  of  my  estates; 
I  have  fortified  it  at  my  own  expense.  But  as  nothing  in 
the  world  can  oppose  a  subject  making  an  humble  present 
to  his  king,  I  offer  your  majesty  the  proprietorship  of  the 
estate,  of  which  you  will  leave  me  the  usufruct.  Belle-Isle, 
as  a  place  of  war,  ought  to  be  occupied  by  the  king.  Your 
majesty  will  be  able,  henceforth,  to  keep  a  safe  garrison 
there." 

Colbert  felt  almost  sinking  down  upon  the  floor.  To  keep 
himself  from  falling  he  was  obliged  to  hold  by  the  columns 
of  the  wainscoting. 

"This  is  a  piece  of  great  skill  in  the  art  of  war  that  you 
have  exhibited  here,  monsieur,"  said  Louis. 

"Sire,  the  initiative  did  not  come  from  me,"  replied  Fou- 
quet; "many  officers  have  inspired  me  with  it.  The  plans 
themselves  have  been  made  by  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
engineers." 

"His  name?" 

"Monsieur  du  Valon." 

"Monsieur  du  Valon?"  resumed  Louis;  "I  do  not  know 
him.  It  is  much  to  be  lamented,  Monsieur  Colbert,"  con- 
tinued  he,  "that  1  do  not  know  the  names  of  the  men  of 


THE   VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE.  405 

talent  who  do  honor  to  my  reign."  And  while  saying  obese 
words  he  turned  toward  Colbert.  The  latter  felt  himself 
crushed,  the  sweat  flowed  from  his  brow,  no  word  presented 
itself  to  his  lips,  he  suffered  an  inexpressible  martyrdom. 
"'You  will  recollect  that  name,"  added  Louis  XIV. 

Colbert  bowed,  but  was  paler  than  his  ruffles  of  Flemish 
lace.     Fouquet  continued: 

"The  masonries  are  of  Koman  mastic;  the  architects  have 
composed  it  for  me  after  the  best  accounts  of  antiquity." 

"And  the  cannon?"  asked  Louis. 

"Oh!  sire,  that  concerns  your  majesty;  it  did  not  becom© 
ne  to  place  cannon  in  my  own  house,  unless  your  majesty 
lad  told  me  it  was  yours." 

Louis  began  to  float,  undetermined,  between  the  hatred 
which  this  so  powerful  man  inspired  him  with,  and  the  pity 
he  felt  for  that  other  man,  so  cast  down,  who  seemed  to 
nim  the  counterfeit  of  the  former.  But  the  consciousness 
of  his  kingly  duty  prevailed  over  the  feelings  of  the  man, 
and  he  stretched  out  his  finger  to  the  paper. 

"It  must  have  cost  you  a  great  deal  of  money  to  carry 
these  plans  into  execution,"  said  he. 

"I  believe  I  had  the  honor  of  telling  your  majesty  the 
amount?" 

"Repeat  it,  if  you  please;  I  have  forgotten  it." 

"Sixteen  hundred  thousand  livres." 

"Sixteen  hundred  thousand  livres;  you  are  enormously 
HchJ  monsieur." 

"It  is  your  majesty  who  is  rich,  since  Belle-Isle  is  yours." 

"Yes,  thank  you;  but  however  rich  I  may  be,  Monsieur 
Fouquet — "     The  king  stopped. 

"Well,  sire?"  asked  the  surintendant. 

"I  foresee  the  moment  when  I  shall  want  money.' 

"You,  sire?    And  at  what  moment,  then?" 

"To-morrow,  for  example." 

"Will  your  majesty  do  me  the  honor  to  explain  yourself?" 

"My  brother  is  going  to  marry  the  princess  of  England.5 

"Well,  sire?" 

"Well,  I  ought  to  give  the  young  princess  a  reception 
worthy  of  the  granddaughter  of  Henry  IV." 

"That  is  but  just,  sire." 

"Then  I  shall  want  money." 

"No  doubt." 

"I  shall  want — "  Louis  hesitated.  The  sum  he  was 
going  to  demand  was  the  same  that  he  had  been  obliged  to 


496  THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAGELONNE. 

refuse  Charles  II.     He  turned  toward  Colbert,  that  he  might 
give  the  blow. 

"I  shall  want  to-morrow — "  repeated  he,  looking  at 
Colbert. 

"A  million,"  said  the  latter  bluntly,  delighted  to  take 
his  revenge.     Fouquet  turned  his  back  upon  the  intendant 
to  listen  to  the  king.     He  did  not  at  all  turn  round,  but 
waited  till  the  king  repeated,  or  rather  murmured,  "a  mil 
lion." 

"Oh,  sire!"  replied  Fouquet  disdainfully,  "a  million. 
What  will  your  majesty  do  with  a  million?" 

"It  appears  to  me,  nevertheless — "  said  Louis  XIV. 

"That  is  not  more  than  is  spent  at  the  nuptials  of  one  of 
the  most  petty  princes  of  Germany." 

"Monsieur!" 

"Your  majesty  must  have  two  millions  at  least.  The 
horses  alone  would  run  away  with  five  hundred  thousand 
livres.  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  sending  your  majesty  six- 
teen hundred  thousand  livres  this  evening." 

"How,"  said  the  king,  "sixteen  hundred  thousand 
livres?" 

"Look,  sire,"  replied  Fcuquet,  without  even  turning 
toward  Colbert,  "I  know  that  that  wat'b  four  hundred 
thousand  livres  of  the  two  millions.  Bu'  tnis  Monsieur 
l'lntendance" — pointing  over  his  shoulder  to  Colbert,  who, 
if  possible,  became  paler,  behind  him — "has  is  his  coffers 
nine  hundred  thousand  livres  of  mine  " 

The  king  turned  round  to  look  at  Colbert. 

"But — "  said  the  latter. 

"Monsieur,"  continued  Fouquet,  still  speaking  indirectly 
to  Colbert,"monsieur  has  received,  a  week  ago,  sixteen  hun- 
dred thousand  livres;  he  has  paid  a  hundred  thousand  livres 
to  the  guards,  sixty-four  thousand  livres  to  the  hospitals, 
twenty-five  thousand  to  the  Swiss,  a  hundred  and  thirty 
thousand  for  provisions,  a  thousand  for  arms,  ten  thousand 
for  incidental  expenses;  I  do  not  err,  then,  in  reckoning 
upon  nine  hundred  thousand  livres  that  are  left."  Thci 
turning  toward  Colbert,  like  a  disdainful  head  of  office 
toward  his  inferior,  "Take  care,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "that 
those  nine  hundred  thousand  livres  be  remitted  to  his 
majesty  this  evening,  in  gold." 

"But,"  said  the  king,  "that  will  make  two  millions  fhe 
hundred  thousand  livres." 

"Sire,  the  five  hundred  thousand  livres  over  may  serv*1  "* 


THE  VICOMTE   DE   BRAG  ELONNE.  497 

pocket  money  for  his  royal  highness.  You  understand, 
Monsieur  Colbert,  this  evening  before  eight  o'clock. " 

And  with  these  words,  bowing  respectfully  to  the  king, 
the  surintendant  made  his  exit  backward,  without  honoring 
with  a  single  look  the  envious  man  whose  head  he  had,  just 
half-shaved. 

Colbert  tore  his  ruffles  to  pieces  in  his  rage,  and  bit  his 
lips  till  they  bled. 

Fouquet  had  not  passed  the  door  of  the  cabinet,  when  an 
usher,  pushing  by  him,  exclaimed:  "A  courier  from  Bre- 
tagne  for  his  majestj'." 

"Monsieur  d'Herblay  was  right,"  murmured  Fouquet, 
pulling  out  his  watch;  "an  hour  and  fifty-five  minutes.  It 
was  quite  truel" 


rm  bto, 


Note.— For  the  information  of  the  reader,  Dumas'  Histories.] 
Romances  should  be  read  in  their  chronological  order  as  follows:  1st, 
The  Three  Guardsmen;  2d,  Twenty  Years  After;  3d,  The  Vicomte 
ie  Bragelonne;  4th,  Ten  Years  Later,  5th,  Louise  de  la  Valliere;  60^ 
l^he  Man  in  the  Iron  Mask  *~ 


' 


,V  .    ' 


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